White Shores
by Spoilerwolf
Summary: It's Heaven - it's Hell. And the boys are smack-dab in the middle of it. Can the boys come together and put aside their differences or will Heaven and Hell drive them apart? 3rd in the Puissance Series. AU.
1. Confrontation

A/N: Well, here we go again! Now, considering the topic of this story, I wanted to get at least one chapter posted before the finale airs. This will shift into an AU, as I doubt very much Kripke would do things my way :p This, surprisingly, is the third in the _Puissance _series, not the second. The second story that will sit in between this one and _Puissance _is about one half to three quarters finished. That story _can _be read as a standalone, but ties into the first story and moves the mytharc forward in time with the show's actual mytharc. So hopefully after this one is posted, I'll get the next one (the 2nd installment in the series) up afterwards :p I am currently also working on the fourth, and there may _possibly _be a fifth story to tie things all up. We'll see how far I get. :p

A/N #2: One thing I will mention here that is explained in the second story is that there _is _an OC that does appear in both stories, but does not get fully explained in this one. The character's name is Roxiel/Roxa and yes, she's an angel. She is _not_, however, A) a love interest (NEVER), or B) A Mary sue. (not going to happen). I think of her as a combination of Yoda (gotta love _Star Wars_) and Alice from _Resident Evil. _She's more an advisor and informant than anything, and appears in the latter half of this story. Her role is more fully explained in the second story, but I thought I'd give you a quick rundown here so you're not confused (nor do you get the idea that she is either of A or B.)

A/N #3: This IS an AU, so be forewarned. This was written before the finale aired (though I have seen the promos for it) and all spoilers mentioned in here (which are very few if any, I may add) are more so just speculation on my part. And my wild imagination. :p

A/N #4: Never had so many A/N's, lol. There will be some cussing so again, you've been warned. That, and in later chapters, you may need tissues, so ha! I've given you another fair warning :p Also, any spelling errors are sadly mine. I hope they don't detract from the story! (hopefully there aren't too many :p )

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters that appear on the CW's _Supernatural_. That includes Sam and Dean... but I wish I owned them :p ;)

* * *

Dean is sitting in one of the lounge chairs in the living room, an old dusty book resting in his lap, opened to a page with strange pictograms and drawings, but he isn't looking at it. He's staring into the fireplace, his face is void of his usual swagger and cockiness that has been steadily returning since his breakdown after dealing with Alastair.

He's alone.

Or at least he was, until Bobby stepped into the room, the older man carrying a plate with a cheese sandwich on it in one hand and a beer in the other. "You should eat something." Bobby murmured, placing the food and beer on the table beside the younger hunter when he received no response. He turned to leave, but was halted by the hoarse voice.

"We have to find him Bobby."

Bobby sighed, rubbing a tired hand through his grizzled beard before turning around. "We will, Dean." He attempted to bolster some courage, but even he is getting discouraged, feeling a pang of loss as if he's missing one of his own.

Well, it _is _his own – rather, one of his own. The Winchesters aren't the only ones that are fiercely protective. Sadly though, Bobby can acknowledge that he had his own hand in creating this mess.

Dean turned exhausted and haunted eyes on the other man. "He's been gone over a week, Bobby. We _have _to find him."

Bobby has heard this plea several times over the past week, and his response hasn't changed anymore than Dean's plea has. "We'll find Sam."

Dean snorts as he turns his head away, his face twisting into a grimace. "He's with _Ruby._" Dean hisses the name like its poison, and as far as Dean is concerned, that's all she is.

Poison. That's what Sam had been doing to himself in order to make himself stronger – feeding off Ruby's blood like it was a healthy no carbs drink.

For Bobby it answered a lot of questions, even if the idea of it was a bit horrifying. But Dean? Dean hadn't taken the finding well, in Bobby's opinion.

And that's how the whole intervention took place, right inside Bobby's house.

They had essentially locked Sam up in Bobby's safe house, keeping him there while the other two hunters had tried to figure out what to do with the youngest Winchester.

Turns out it was a good thing Bobby had built a second door with the lock on the outside, or Sam would have walked right out the door. The older hunter just didn't think he'd need to use it to keep one of the boys from getting out.

So for two and a half days, they all argued; there were a lot of angry words, tears, fists thrown and it had all been for nothing. Sam had walked out the door, had even knocked Bobby out to get away, but not before asking Bobby to shoot him first. The pain on the kid's face? Was heartbreaking. It wasn't the detox that was so horrible, but the defeated and downtrodden way he looked at Bobby before he placed Bobby's gun right above his heart. He looked like a man who was being marched to the gallows before he shoved the butt of the shotgun in Bobby's face.

The older hunter swallowed, trying to keep his own misery off his face as he played through the memory in his head again.

That was just over a week ago.

And Sam's horrific screams from those two and a half days still tore Bobby from sleep every time he closed his eyes.

Dean appeared to be waiting for him to say something else. "I'm still waiting to hear from a few contacts. They should be checking in in a few hours." He replied lamely, not having anything else to go on.

Dean gave him a simple nod in return, acknowledging him and dismissing him all in the same movement and Bobby left the living room feeling even more useless then when he had walked in.

* * *

Dean watched the older man leave, feeling a bit regretful for the dismissive attitude he'd taken with Bobby. He didn't mean it; it was just that he had other things on his mind.

He was feeling angry with Sam, but there was a lot of guilt mixed up in that anger. Things had gotten so screwed up between them ever since Dean had come back and neither one of them had been able to reach out to try and fix it. Oh, there had been attempts on both sides, but it just never seemed enough.

Dean sighed, closing the book and resting his chin in the palm of his hand, elbow leaning on the arm of the chair just staring at the fireplace once again. He just wanted Sam back – his brother, not the uber hunter, not the lies and deceit, and not the demonic bloody brewery that was Ruby attached at his hip.

He wasn't sure how long he just sat there, staring at the fire, but it was long enough that Bobby had resorted to shaking his shoulder roughly to get his attention.

"Dean? Dean!"

He sounded anxious, and Dean's thoughts immediately went to his brother. "Did you find Sam?"

Bobby shook his head. "Demons. A fairly large gathering at that."

Dean deflated. "Who cares." He turned sullen eyes turned back to the fire.

Bobby sighed heavily. "Because _Lilith_ is there." The elder hunter watched in satisfaction as he saw Dean's shoulders stiffen, head turning around slowly to look at him, the dawning realization of what that meant sinking in.

"Where she is, Sam's bound to follow." He pulled himself roughly out of his chair, startling the other man. "Where?" He asked gruffly, moving towards the desk, pulling out a map.

Bobby shook his head in fond exasperation. He moved over to the table, glancing at the map as he tapped a spot on the worn paper with a calloused finger. "Here."

Dean furrowed his brows, looking at the area before glancing at Bobby with desperation, and for the first time in over a week, a little hope. Well what the hell are we waiting for?"

* * *

It had been a miserable past week for Sam, so much so that his attitude had relected it down to the last frown, being just as bleak and sour as the dark clouds that spit out rain almost every hour. Even Ruby kept chatter down to a minimal, sensing that Sam was not in the mood for communicating at present.

They were somewhere in Colorado, some crap hole Sam didn't know the name of. He didn't really much care.

It was hard for Sam to feel anything these days.

Ruby had taken off earlier that morning to go get supplies for some spell she wanted to try in order to locate Lilith. Sam could have cared less about it. He had his doubts that it would work. Every other spell the demon had tried hadn't landed any results, he suspected this one wouldn't be any different.

Sam sighed, running an agitated hand through his sleep tussled hair, fingers coming to rest against the yellow bruise on the left side of his jaw where his brother had punched him during their fight when Dean had confronted him at his motel room. It hadn't hurt near as much as the verbal tongue lashing and the whole being locked up like an animal had.

Sam grimaced. That had cut to the bone, cleaving everything in him in half. But what hurt the most? Was the disgusted look on Dean's face when he found out what Sam had been doing. He had looked at Sam like he was a monster, and Sam felt his soul shatter with the disappointed curl of his brother's lips. Oh sure, he was furious with his brother and Bobby for what they had done – he didn't think he'd ever been more angry at Dean in his entire life – but most of that anger was anger at himself, and heartbreak for how their relationship lay in tatters on the floor at his feet. The pang of loss was almost worse than when Dean was dragged off to hell.

Almost.

_If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back._

_You are a monster._

Sam's throat closed and he felt the prickle of tears at the corner of his eyes. But at least Dean was alive now, and Sam would take Dean hating him if it meant his brother stayed alive.

Besides, it's not like Sam planned to survive much longer.

Sam had a strong suspicion that he'd die trying to stop the last seal – either a demon, an angel, or God forbid his brother would end him. Sam never did have much hope for himself – damned a long time ago by a deal his mother made before he was born, and his fate sealed when he was six months old. A game he'd lost before it had even started. A game, it seemed, he now had to finish alone.

There's was a sudden scraping sound at the door as a key was slid into the lock, and Ruby opened the door and shut it quietly behind her, her face colored by determination. "What?" He asked dryly, more out of curiosity than actual concern.

"The demons are gathering in Connecticut. Word on the street is Lilith is there too." She answered distractedly, moving around the room and throwing a few items into her bag.

Sam grabbed her arm tightly in his grasp, and he could feel her wince from the pressure. "Are you sure?" He pressed, needing to know how long he had before hopefully this whole thing will be over. He doubts the angels would listen to a diseased demonic human freak, but Sam prays that Dean won't watch him die. Dean might just care enough to have it bother him, and Sam doesn't wish anymore suffering for his already overtaxed sibling.

Her eyes narrow and she tugs free from his grip. "Yes. And if we want to stop her before she breaks open the last seal, we better haul ass." She turns her back on him, throwing a small notebook on top of her bag, ignoring him.

Sam stays seated at the small table, watching her move about in a whirlwind as she gets all of her stuff together. Sam doesn't have much to pack at all, and he feels a pang in his chest when he realizes almost everything he has or owns is with Dean or in the Impala. Packing takes throwing four shirts, two pairs of new jeans, some socks, a couple pairs of boxers and a toothbrush, toothpaste and a razor in his bag and that's all he has.

Everything else is _gone_.

_Maybe Dean will throw all my things out when this is over_, Sam wonders bitterly as he pushes himself up to get ready to leave. Sam thinks he should. No need remembering him, because no one else is going to. Dead would be preferable to living as a shadow of himself, he thinks sadly.

Especially with no one to come home to.

Ruby pauses as she reaches for her silver blade. "You're still not strong enough yet, Sam. You're going to need more." Her eyes dart up to Sam's face, and she frowns at the cold distant eyes that stare back at her without a flicker of emotion. Ruby can't decide if this apathy is a good thing or not.

Sam doesn't say anything for a moment, but finally nods, sitting down on his bed, while Ruby sits on the other one. She makes a clean slice across the crook of her inner left arm, and blood immediately wells and Sam feels both a need and repulsion by it. As he reaches for her arm with a numb hand, he hears all the rants and harsh words said by the only two people left in this world that he loves. They think he's a _monster_, something worth damnation and Sam had tried _so hard _to fight against the truth, but as he brings her arm to his lips he knows he only has himself to blame, and he hopes that through his revenge, past all of his life's failures, that the one good thing he can do is protect those that deserve the chance to be saved.

And that someone will finish him off when this is over. And that he'll die alone.

Because he _is_ alone.

* * *

They had been driving all day, with Ruby in the driver's seat and Sam slumped against the passenger door. They didn't talk much; there wasn't much need. Sam was feeling somewhere between hot and cold, his body thrumming was barely controlled energy. Hell, he could feel it all the way to the tips of his fingers, prickling like static electricity.

"You want to grab something to eat?" Ruby asked suddenly, the first words she's said in over 150 miles. It's woefully inadequate, and Sam feels the pressure and heartache of loss all over again. He shakes his head, and they pass through another sleepy town, unnoticed.

Silence descends on the car again as Sam stares out the passenger window, watching the sun sink beneath pink clouds and darkness begins to take hold. He stares at his reflection in the panel of glass, and he can't recognize the person staring back at him. Who is he? What is he? He's been asking himself that question almost his entire life, and he has still never achieved a relatively definitive answer. Words like _freak _and _monster _immediately spring to mind, and he glances away from his reflection in disgust.

Sam must have dozed off, because when he opens his eyes, he can tell they aren't far off. He can _feel _the demons that choke off this area like they'd just passed through a veil, and he knows that they have to get through them before he can get to Lilith.

_He doesn't know…so close…only a little longer now…_

Sam frowns, blinking a few times to clear his vision. "Did you say something?" He asked hesitantly, watching Ruby's face pucker into a frown.

"No, I didn't say anything. Why?" She glanced at him, truly perplexed by his question.

"Nothing." He shifts again in his seat, propping his head up with his hand against the door frame. He frowns when his sleeve slips down, the top of his wrist now exposed. He pulls his head back from the window and tugs on the material, bringing it to rest against mid arm. He tenderly traces the scars on his wrist with the pad of his thumb, fingering the ruff and jagged scars that run the length of his forearm. He has a matching one on his other arm too. He remembers this injury well. He should, as it only happened just over a month ago when he and Dean had discovered they had a half brother named Adam.

Too bad for them their real brother had already been killed by ghouls before they had even gotten there. It left them with bad memories and Sam almost bleeding out from slit wrists the ghouls had inflicted, and he had almost bled dry on the table while Dean fought with the ghoul wearing their half brother's face.

Sam tugged the sleeve up angrily to cover the wicked scars. He doesn't want anymore scars to remind him of his failure as a brother - to both of them.

He just wants this all over with.

Ruby stiffened next to him. "We're getting close. It won't be long now."

Sam felt that same nauseating feeling come over him as well. The air tasted of sulphur and ash, and he knew it wasn't because he was sitting next to a demon. One demon alone didn't give off this kind of vibe, or scent.

But a hundred or so would.

"You sure you're up to this Sam?" She asked quietly, glancing at him briefly before her eyes return to the road.

Was Sam ready? _No. _He thought. The stakes were huge, with every player on the field moving simultaneously to strike.

And for whatever reason, Sam had this pit in his stomach; a churning sickening feeling like something bad was going to happen to him tonight.

Maybe tonight would be the night after-all. Set things back to the way they were supposed to be. With his body six feet under.

"Sam?" She asked quietly, waiting for an answer.

He inhaled sharply, before releasing a breath in a heavy exhale. "Yeah. I'm ready."

* * *

It was dark by the time they pulled into Torrington, Connecticut. Ruby maneuvered the car into the empty parking stall and killed the engine. They both opened their doors and climbed out, Sam letting out a tired sigh, watching his breath come out in a wispy cloud.

_So close, dammit. Just a littler further and he'll break..._

Startled, he whipped his head around and stared at Ruby's retreating form. "Ruby."

She paused, her form illuminated by the dull yellow lamp light that was attached to the wall above her. She turned her head enough to see him, her eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean I'll break? Break what?" He could hear the accusatory tone in his voice, but he didn't care.

There was hesitation in her eyes, and her lips pressed together in a tight line. "I didn't say anything, Sam."

"Yes you did! I could hear you!" He shouted, not caring who heard. Except he should have, because Ruby wasn't the only one listening.

Sam felt something whiz over his head and he ducked instinctively, narrowly avoiding the steel pipe aimed at his head. The weapon cracked against the stone wall, shattering pieces of rock upon impact. Sam saw a flicker of black in the man's normally blue eyes and Sam mentally reached out and tossed the man into the wall, the crude weapon skittering across the gravel road.

"Who are you?" Sam barked, watching with a measure of satisfaction as the demon squirmed against the wall.

"Fuck you, Winchester. You think you're hot stuff?" The demon laughed hollowly, even when it cut off to a gurgle when Sam applied more pressure. "You're no better than we are, so don't come preaching here about doing the _right _thing."

Sam fumed, eyes darkening as he got in the demon's face. "Where's Lilith?" When the demon didn't answer, Sam curled one hand into a fist, the demon twitching and moaning in pain. "_Where is she_?!" He yelled, practically spitting the words in the monster's face.

He could feel the demon's will power weakening, much like Alastair had done months before. Another ounce of pressure and the demon screamed, twitching in earnest now. "Outside the city, _outside_ the city!"

Sam eased off the pressure, glaring daggers. "Where?"

The demon heaved in air through strained lungs. "An old stone church, just outside city limits on the east side."

Sam absorbed that, clenching his hand once again, preparing to finish the bastard off.

The demon seemed to sense its immanent demise, and struggled weakly against invisible bonds. "You won't win, Sam." It hissed between clenched teeth. "You're only going to finish what we started." It smiled then. "You're going to set him _free._"

Sam paused, feeling the first tendrils of fear curl around his spine. "What do you mean?"

The demon smiled wickedly at him. "Why don't you ask your demon slut?"

Sam's eyes widened, glancing to his left where he'd last seen Ruby, but noticing there was no trace of the demon around.

The demon laughed a high pitched whistle. "Why do you think she was _so _invested in getting you to kill Lilith, huh? Get you all juiced up on demon blood, get your head so twisted around, you wouldn't question her motives or reasons for wanting Lilith's head on a plate." He chuckled quietly. "And it worked like a _fucking_ charm."

Sam breathed heavily through his mouth, unable to come up with a response.

The demon curled his lips, running his tongue over his teeth. "One brother to break the first seal, the other one to break the last. Poetic justice, you might say."

Sam's breathing increased as he struggled to understand all this last minute information that he had just received. The man was still laughing when Sam ripped its demonic ass to shreds, the body lighting up like it had fireworks under its skin. The body slid to the ground, and Sam crouched down and numbly placed two fingers on the man's neck.

There was no pulse.

"Dammit." Sam hissed under his breath, running agitated fingers through his hair, feeling for the first time completely at a loss for what to do. "Shit. Shit, shit, shit." His whole world had been turned upside down just over a year ago. It righted itself nine months ago when Dean came back, and pulled another 180 when his family locked him away. And now his whole reason for going down this road, for risking _everything _to get revenge on the monster that killed his brother, and he was going to apparently break the last seal in his revenge.

Was the demon lying? Sam wasn't sure and it frightened him. He didn't know what to think or who to trust anymore. He wanted to scream the injustice of it all at the whole world, and curl up into a ball and cry.

He needed to talk to Ruby and figure this out - now. "Ruby!" He yelled, furiously waiting for the demon to appear.

Seconds turned into minutes, and Sam cursed something wicked under his breath and moved swiftly over to the driver's side door of her car, retching the door open wide and pulling at the wires under the dashboard.

Under a minute later Sam slammed the door shut and he drove off in the direction the demon pointed out, without Ruby at his side.

"Good."Sam mutters, eyes narrowed in anger and frustration as he leaves the town. "I'll do this on my own."

* * *

Sam pulls into a long winding driveway and comes to a stop in front of an old church, the walls a dusty grey color.

The lights are on inside, and they illuminate the dirty brown barn not one hundred feet away.

Sam turned the car off and pulled himself out, quietly closing the door behind him as he made his way up the stairs and pulled the large oak doors open a crack and slipped inside.

Sam walked past two narrow corridors and found himself in the main service area, littered with pews that are pushed against the far wall. There's a light sheen of dust on the window sills, and Sam knows that this church hasn't been used for a while.

A door creaks at the end of the hallway and Sam stealthily makes his way over, his head peering around the corner and his eyes narrow in on the two figures arguing with each other in the dimly lit room.

Ruby is there. And by the flash of white in the other lady's eyes, he would bet all money that it was Lilith as well.

Sam grits his teeth and inhales sharply through his nose as he pulls himself through the door, feeling two sets of eyes watch him as he saunters in, eyes fixed on the blonde woman wearing a white dress.

"Sam." Lilith calls, but it's more of a hiss than anything else as she watches him come in like an animal stalking a predator that has encroached on their territory.

Ruby says nothing, but the slight curl of her lips at Sam's entrance does nothing to settle the pit in his stomach.

"You finally found me." Lilith's eyes flicker white, before returning to brown. "Come here to kill me?"

Sam answers by telekinetically flinging her across the floor, hearing her head crack against what looks like a white tomb. He watches her touch the side of her head before her angry eyes meet his, and he looks back at her with loathing and immense hatred he has never held for anyone else. That hatred is reflected in his eyes, as his irises go black and spread to cover the whites of his eyes too, blinking them away in the next second, hazel returning to chase away the darkness that covered his eyes.

"That all you got?" She hisses, and once again, she's flung across the floor till her back hits the wall, pinning her there and Sam sees real fear flicker across the plains of her face.

Ruby stays behind him, and he can't see her feral smirk behind his back.

"I've waited," He takes a big inhale and let's the breath out just as quickly, "for a _long_ time for this." Sam answers coldly, feeling his powers swell underneath his skin.

Lilith sneers at him from her position on the wall. "Then give me your best shot."

* * *

A/N: Whew! Well now, that sets things up to be a doozy huh? :p Sorry, not a ton of action, but more stuff to come! We'll get Dean in there in the next chapter. And just what is Sam going to do? *ponders that* Guess you'll have to find out. :p


	2. Plans revealed

A/N: Here it is folks! Next chapter. The finale for the show turned out to be quite interesting, eh? Just to add in light of the finale: This story excludes some parts of the finale (basically, Chuck is mentioned, but not seen - Cas and Zach don't kidnap Dean from Bobby's, and Dean's still a wee bit angry with Sam and hasn't made that phone call that I'm sure will be infamous for a long time now :p Oh, and obviously, the big battle doesn't go down in the same city :p)

A/N #2: Some swearing, and lots of angst. Good times :p

* * *

Dean was driving down the highway, foot pushing the pedal to the floor as he made a beeline for Connecticut.

He was hoping to find Sam.

He didn't know what he'd do if he did – he was willing to let Sam die when they had locked him up in Bobby's panic room. He had been willing to let Sam _die._

He briefly closed his eyes, remembering his last words to his brother. _If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back._ He remembers the sudden blank look on Sam's face when the words had left his mouth; but he could feel the despair and self loathing coming off of Sam as if it were his own.

Who was he kidding? It _was_ his own. He was losing Sam to what he had promised the kid he'd never be.

He just never thought it would come to this – an almost literal battle to the death.

He was feeling as though hell had reached through the ground and had just gutted him, body and soul. He didn't want to confront Sam anymore than he wanted to kill him.

But he had to stop his brother now, before it was too late. He wouldn't let Sam become a monster.

"We need to talk." A deep voice rumbled from the backseat and Dean swerved madly into the other lane from the shock, a sharp yelp coming out of his throat from the voice just behind his ear.

"Jesus!" Dean hissed, glancing in the rear view mirror at Castiel before his eyes return to the road, his heart pounding. "Phone the next time, would you? I almost drove off the frigging road."

The angel stared intently at him, an undercurrent of frustration and anger coming off him in waves.

"What the hell do you want?" Dean asked sharply, not at all in the mood for anything else to go wrong.

"Your brother." Castiel answers sharply, and Dean's head literally whipped around and his eyes widened at the angel's narrowed gaze.

* * *

Sam sticks his hand out and makes a fist, Lilith squirming and hissing in pain from the psychic attack. "You're going to pay for what you did to my brother." He snarls, and a part of his mind is screaming at him to _stop_, the voice of disquiet making itself known.

"Let her feel _everything_ she's made you go through, Sam. Everything she's put _Dean_ through." Ruby whispered seductively in his ear, and Sam's frail control slipped a little under the coercion.

"Yeah, that's right Sam, listen to your slutty little brewery." Lilith mocked, glaring at Ruby with hate filled eyes.

"Finish her off Sam. Do what you were _destined_ to do." Ruby's voice held a note of intensity and almost… longing.

Sam raised his hand higher, listening as Lilith's high pitched wails continued to grow in intensity, her thrashing becoming more pronounced. But still, this voice of rationality among the intense feelings of ecstasy of finally getting his revenge was being tempered by disquiet.

Something wasn't right.

He lowered his hand a fraction, easing some of the pressure off. "Why didn't the demons attack us when we hit town?" Sam asked coolly, watching Lilith sneer at him indifferently.

"_Sam_." Ruby said his name tersely, eyes narrowing in his direction.

"_No_." Sam hissed back, his eyes focused on his brother's killer.

"Why does that matter to you?" Lilith asked, her tongue pushing against the one corner of her mouth before running her tongue over her teeth seductively.

"Because those demons should have been trying to kill us the moment we stepped in town, and yet you send one bastard after me and he tells me immediately where you are?" Sam's heart is beginning to race, as he starts putting the big picture together. "It was too easy." He continues, pacing in front of her with his hands flexing and relaxing at his sides. "You _wanted _me here. Why?" He pauses, head cocked to the side, studying her face which is pulled into a feral smile.

"Because you're a man after my own heart." The demon cooed, her head slumped down to rest along her right shoulder. "And I knew that it would come to this in the end." She frowns suddenly, eyes glaring in Ruby's direction. "And that _bitch_ led you right to me, because she wanted to be there at the end." She turns her head to stare at Sam, a somewhat pained look on her face. "Right before the fireworks start."

Ruby hisses something inhuman under her breath, her eyes turning as black as a moonless night as she stalks right up to the other demon. "You're going to get what you _deserve_."

Lilith barks out a laugh, sneering down at the other woman. "You just wanted the devil to welcome you with open arms, because you wanted to have the credit to say you were the one that helped open the last seal."

Sam's eyes widened and he sucked in a pain filled breath in the same moment that Ruby strikes Lilith across the face with the back of her hand.

Lilith chuckled, licking the blood off her lips with a pale tongue. "That hurt."

Ruby snarled at her, and her black eyes turn to Sam. "Finish her off Sam, and be done with it. _All _of it."

And Sam once again finds both pairs of eyes watching him, waiting for him to make a decision.

And Sam doesn't know what to _do._

"_Do it_, Sam." Ruby encourages, backing away from the one thing he most wants to kill.

And when he finally finds himself in the position to finally have his revenge.

He can't do it.

Because when he looks into both of their eyes, he sees the lies and the truth staring back at him.

One set of eyes black, the other white.

Sam lashes out as fast as a cobra strike, mentally throwing Ruby into the wall next to the white-eyed demon, watching her bounce off the wall with such force, that some of the grey stones go to the floor with her.

Ruby remains still.

Lilith is grinning from ear to ear. "_Finally_ someone put that bitch in her place." Her eyes roam Sam's features until they rest upon his tense and rigid form, watching a thousand emotions spill across the plains of his face. She smiles again. "_Definitely_ a man after my own heart."

* * *

"What do the angels want with my brother?" Dean hedges, eyes returning to the road.

But he already knows the answer before Cas can even open his mouth.

"Your brother is out of control." Castiel begins, eyes glancing to the roof of the car, as if trying to figure out the right words to say. "The word has come to take action." His dark blue eyes stare into Dean's through the rear-view mirror. "Your brother must be _stopped._"

Dean swallows nervously. _This _is what he'd been so desperately trying to avoid for Sam, and he could no longer protect his brother from the other side. "I'm going there now to stop Sam, okay? Just – just leave him to me."

The angel shakes his head. "You go there to try and reason with a brother that is no longer there." The angel's eyes tighten. "Our sources have already indicated that Sam is now working with Lilith."

The car takes another unexpected swerve into the other lane.

"WHAT?" Dean yells, flabbergasted, pulling the car back into the correct lane. "Sam? _No. _Sam has wanted that bitch dead for over a year; hell, he _poisoned_ himself in order to be strong enough to kill her. No _way_ would Sam have ended up on the same side as her or working _with _her." He shakes his head angrily, feeling the prickle of tears at the corner's of his eyes. "_No._"

But the angel just shakes his head sadly. "I warned you what would happen to your brother if he consumed enough demon blood." He watches the blood drain from Dean's face and he feels something akin to pity. "And that kind of demonic infection has left its mark. He's no better than they are now."

Castiel turns his gaze downward, unable to meet Dean's gaze for a moment - he was the one who had let Sam out in the first place, and he feels... strangely responsible for how things have turned out now.

Especially with how things turned out between the brothers.

"Then your sources are _wrong!_" Dean growled, his hands clenching the steering wheel so tightly that the skin around his knuckles turns bone white.

Castiel sighed. "I am sorry, Dean. But the orders are to destroy your brother on sight."

Dean says nothing, heart climbing up his throat and salt water filling his vision.

"If you find your brother, you have to stop him." Castiel's voice is almost a mere whisper, but the threat is as hard as steel. "Or _we_ will."

Dean glances at the rear-view mirror to bark back a protest, but the angel is gone.

And part of Dean's soul feels deserted as well.

* * *

"I'm not doing this for _you._" Sam snarled, pacing in front of the helpless demon whose grin stretches tightly across the plains of her pale face. "You're the last seal. Killing _you _will set him free." He stops in front of her, eyes blazing with hatred. "Why? Why break the seals when you _knew_ that your death would let him out."

The demon glances away, appearing bored. "I _didn't_ know. It wasn't until we got wind of that _prophet _did I find out that _I_ was supposed to die as a final sacrifice to release Lucifer." She smiled at him then. "Why do you think I tried to make that deal with you? I knew with you out of the way, the chances of me getting killed were damn near nil."

Sam closed his eyes briefly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Then why continue breaking the other seals once you found out?"

The demon huffed angrily. "I _didn't. _Those working for _Azazel's_ endgame did."

Sam's eyes widened at that.

Lilith smirked at him. "Filth like _her_," She nodded her head towards Ruby's unconscious form, "have been trying to continue Azazel's work – bringing about the Apocalypse so one of them could be the right hand of the devil - by using one of Azazel's _chosen ones _to help break the seals."

At that, Sam shuts his eyes tightly, feeling the sting of shame and a blazing amount of anger and hatred fill his being.

The demon snorts, watching the young hunter. "We couldn't have done it without someone – pardon the pun – playing devil's advocate on the other side." She smiles at him, just as her eyes turn a hideously milky white. "We have informants on Heaven's side – wanting the devil back up for an encore just as much as we do." She moveed her head off of the wall, glancing down at Sam with a wicked, feral grin. "And the best part? The one on our side? Is giving most of Heaven's batting team their orders and _no one_ has caught onto it yet." She smiles knowingly at him. "Uriel was not our only informant."

"You sonofabitch." Sam growls, but his heart is pounding hard against his ribcage now. _Dean. Dean's probably being manipulated too._

He grabs a handful of the demon's white dress, shaking her violently. "_Who _is the traitor?"

She rolls her eyes. "Like I'm going to tell _you_, Sam. It's not like you can _kill _me to get the information."

He clenches his teeth together, knowing she's right. "The angel's will be coming for you, won't they?"

Lilith does frown then, eyes returning to the host's natural brown. "As a backup plan, yes, they will send their angel friends to try and finish me off if you failed to kill me."

Sam smacks a palm flat against one of the grey stones. "_Fuck_."

And in that moment, Sam understands the horrible position he's now been put in.

Lilith realizes it too, or perhaps she was waiting for Sam to finally come to the same conclusion. "The hunter becomes the protector- how ironic." The demon soon finds herself face first against the cold floor, a large and rough hand pulling her up and pinning her against the wall harshly.

"I _hate _you." Sam seethes, eyes flickering a inky black before settling to a dark hazel as he presses an arm across her windpipe.

She squirms; just enough to loosen his hold, but it does nothing to erase the smug satisfaction on her face. "But you need me _alive _in order to stop Lucifer from rising, don't you Sammy?"

"It's Sam, you white-eyed demonic _bitch_."

She giggles, tilting her head towards the door. "How about the one that just walked out the door?"

Sam whipped his head around and noticed for the first time that Ruby is no longer on the ground where she had crumpled after he tossed her into the wall. The door leading out of the room is ajar and he can just make out shallow footsteps leading towards the main doors.

"_Sonofabitch_!" He yelled, and he dropped the other demon and makes for the door.

Lilith's raspy words cause him to falter. "The angels are on their way. I can sense them."

Something close to a painful whine passes between Sam's lips. Can this day get any _fucking worse?_

Sam hears thunder rolling in the distance and he gets his answer. _That would be a hell _fucking_ no._

"I have to take care of Ruby first." He calls over his shoulder, still half in denial of what he's actually being forced to do.

He's trying to protect the same demon that murdered his brother before his eyes.

And he suddenly hates the universe for this gut wrenching twist of fate that's been bestowed upon him. He hates Ruby for what she's done to him – and by extension Dean, because it turned out Dean was _right _about her.

He hates Lilith for having taken Dean away from him in the first place.

And he hates himself for all the shit that came between he and Dean and Sam doesn't think he's ever going to be able to fix the damage already done.

His feet move swiftly against the cold stone floor as he races for the door, hot on the manipulative demon's feet. He hopes that he'll be able to reason with the angels, but doubts that it's possible.

His only other avenue is Dean, but Sam wants to cry from knowing he can't do that either. _If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back._

He walked through the door his brother had opened for him.

And Dean slammed the door behind him in his face.

Sam can already feel his muscles beginning to tense and the tips of his fingers are beginning to burn and a terrible headache is forming at the base of his skull.

He's beginning to feel the withdrawal effects on top of everything else.

He wants to ask God what he ever did to piss the guy off to have his entire world turn against him.

Especially his brother.

And as Sam pulls open the heavy doors and races down the stone steps to the gravel driveway he can see headlights illuminating the tall trees lining the property as it snakes its way up the driveway, and Sam _knows _his brother is here.

And Sam feels a bit more of his sanity flee him and he feels real fear creep into the crevasses of his skin as time has finally run out for him.

He's out of time, out of hope, and out of any plans.

He can only hope Dean has some minuscule amount of faith in him to listen to Sam when he tells Dean the truth about what's _really _going on.

And if he doesn't?

Then Sam will have to stop the angel's and his brother from killing Lilith.

Sam swallows hard.

Or they stop _him_.

* * *

A/N: Seems Sam's in a bit of a pickle, huh? :p Stay tuned, the boys have their confrontation next! :p Read and review please!


	3. Cain & Abel

A/N: Alrighty! Let's finally get to some of the good action, shall we? :p And thanks again to all those who have reviewed.

A/N #2: This chapter is for Donna - during our long theory discussion chats we had, we theorized about certain things happening. (tries not to give it away) I tweaked it a bit, but this is what came of it. And a wild imagination. :p

* * *

Finding the unmarked driveway was a bitch, and it had taken longer than Dean would admit to finding, but he was finally here.

The road was lined with large trees, and the driveway wasn't anything more than just gravel and sand, the tires rolling over and crushing them under the weight of the car.

Dean tried to loosen his shoulders, but they're wound tighter than guitar strings. He breathes deeply through his nose, trying to calm his now frantic heartbeat.

This is it. Sam has to be here. Sam _is _here.

Dean can see another car parked closer to the grey stoned church, and he parks behind it. He pulls himself out and scanned the area before making his way towards the church doors.

There's a sudden light from the barn that flickers on, and a shadow passes by the barn doors.

Dean's steps falter and he makes the decision to check it out, feet moving swiftly across the gravel road as he presses his back up against the barn wall, his head poking around the corner to see who's in there.

Sam is standing there under one of the barn lights, arms across his chest, eyes zeroed in on Dean's face. "Dean." Sam says carefully, almost neutral, hesitant.

_No point in hiding when he knows you're there_. Dean stepped away from his cover, and walked in a few feet to stand just inside the barn's overhang. "Sam." Dean replied, just as neutrally. He's not sure what to do here.

Sam licked dry lips, eyes crinkled in what Dean would guess to be pain. "Dean, there's something going on that you don't understand…."

Dean snorts. "Apparently. I heard you decided hooking up with Lilith was the better alternative to killing her. How's that working out for you?" Dean can't keep the hurt and anger out of his voice, but does acknowledge the flinch that twitches Sam's face.

Sam shakes his head. "It's not what you think, Dean."

And just like that, Sam practically confirms what Castiel told him on the way over here. "You really are far gone, aren't you?" Dean choked on the words, but steels himself for the upcoming squabble.

Because he can't let Sam walk away this time.

Sam does look vaguely stricken, the skin around his eyes pinched even more so. "Not the way you think, Dean. Listen to me, we're being played-"

Dean shakes his head, cutting his brother off. "_We're _being played? I think you mean _you're _being played, Sam. I mean, did you _think_ that Ruby was the answer?" Dean's angry now, arms in constant movement as he advances towards his sibling. "So what? Got sick of Ruby and thought Lilith would be a better fit? Or did her blood just taste that much better?"

Dean thinks it's almost comical the way Sam's eyes widen, his mouth hanging open like a fish caught on a hook. And he _almost _believes that the pain splashed across Sam's face a few seconds later is genuine, except for the way his hands tighten into fits at his sides and how the barn creaks when Sam says, "Fuck you."

Sam gets right up into Dean's face, and he looms over his brother, using every extra inch he has of height against him. "I _never _touched her blood. I have more reason to want her _dead _than you do, but you are always so quick to judge, Dean."

"Well considering your past actions, your judgement is something to be desired." Dean snapped back, taking a few steps back himself to put more space between them.

But Sam doesn't let him, matching his brother's steps with his own. "What are you going to do, Dean? Lock me up? Gank Lilith yourself?" Sam levels him with a pained frown. "You _can't _kill her, Dean."

Dean reluctantly pulled the knife from the back of his jeans, wielding it in his right hand. He feels sick, like someone shoved sulphuric acid down his throat and its burning away his insides. He really doesn't want to do this. "If it'll stop you? Yeah, I will." He pauses a moment. "And as for Lilith? The angels are going to kill her, and then this will be over with."

Sam glanced at the knife dispassionately, before his eyes trail up his brother's tense shoulders to his distraught eyes. "I don't want to fight you, Dean."

Dean sniffed; face scrunched up like someone just kicked a puppy. "I don't want to fight you either, Sam, but this _has_ to stop here." Dean watches as Sam's eyes narrow, and he bites the inside of his cheek when he sees a flicker of black in the hazel irises in his sibling's eyes, Sam's natural independent streak kicking in and defiance is written across the hardened plains of his face.

"You are _not_ going to lock me up again, Dean. It didn't work so well last time." He grits his teeth, taking a deliberate step into Dean's personal space, now only inches away from his brother's tense face. "_No_. I followed your lead when it came to your demon deal, and we _bot_h paid the price for that."

Dean flinched at the reminder.

"Now we do things _my _way." Sam hissed, fingers curled tightly into fists to keep himself from smacking his brother across the back of the head and at the same time, he wants to grab his brother and hold on, because things are going to get ugly for both of them.

And for everyone else, if they don't stop the angel's from killing Lilith.

But Dean surprised him – he pushed Sam back roughly, dark green eyes blazing even as he opened his mouth to argue. "No, Sam. You aren't even in control of yourself. I mean, have you _looked _in a mirror? You aren't strong enough to kill Lilith, and no matter how many demonic bloody cocktails you suck back, it'll _never_ be enough!"

The barb hit home, and Sam felt shame well within him. "I'm not here to kill her Dean, as much as I would love to. I'm here to stop the angels from making a mistake." _To stop you making a mistake. _Sam mentally added.

"Bull shit. We stop Lilith, and then she can't open the final -"

"She _is _the final seal!" Sam yelled, feeling the tools hanging on the barn wall tremble in his anger. Dean glanced at the wall too, and Sam can feel Dean's apprehension.

Dean stared furiously at his brother. "How the hell would you know that, Sam? Let me guess – Lilith told you, huh? Yeah, because demons don't lie." Dean snarled back, feeling his insides twist painfully at the thought that he was going to have to actually fight Sam.

In order to save Sam from himself.

"Well it's not like there haven't been higher ups trying to free the devil from the other side either." Sam threw back, giving Dean a knowing look.

Dean let out a shaky sigh, shaking his arms to release some of the built up tension before slipping into a crouched position. "If you wanna get to Lilith and the angels about to gank her, you have to get passed me first, Sam." _Stop this now, Sammy._

For a moment, Dean could see the pain on his younger brother's face, see the hesitation, but watched knowingly as Sam slipped into his own fighting stance, mirroring his own. "I don't want to fight you, Dean." The skin around his eyes were pinched. "But you are not going to keep me here." Sam shakes his head sadly. "I have to stop them."

Both circled each other, waiting for an opening to strike. Both tense, both feeling dread like a lead weight at what they were about to do.

There was a clap of thunder in the distance, and that seemed to be the trigger because the fight was on.

* * *

The fight was fairly even, surprisingly. What Dean found most interesting was that Sam was not using his abilities against him. He kind of expected it, even thought that was mostly a guarantee, but he wasn't.

Didn't mean Sam wasn't giving as many jabs and hits as he received.

They had sparred often when they were kids – hell, even when they were adults, just to keep their skills fresh and up-to-date. For so many years, Dean always came out on top – he was older, heavier, taller, and more aggressive than Sam was. When Sam got older, the fights began to even out, Sam having surpassed him both in height and weight.

Winning fights against Sam meant more to him then, because he had to actually work for it.

And this fight was no different.

The first thing that went was the knife, when Sam brutally kicked it out of Dean's hand and Dean used the momentum to swing around and retaliate with a wild punch to Sam's face which staggered him.

The next few minutes consisted of a flurry of blows, kicks and deflections. One blow had split the skin around Dean's eyebrow open, weeping blood down one side of his face.

Another blow had Sam spitting out a mouthful of blood from a split lip, the skin around his lip and jaw darkening and already swelling from the hit.

It surprised Dean when Sam body slammed him into the barn wall, his shoulders taking most of the impact, forcing the air out of his lungs. He only had a second longer to throw his arms out when Sam tossed him to the floor, stepping over him a moment later and reaching the barn door.

Angry, Dean slapped the ground and pushed himself up, making for Sam and tackling him to the ground just as Sam stepped out onto the gravel driveway. The thunder rumbled above their heads but neither paid attention as they fought and wrestled with each other.

They finally separated when Sam used his legs to push Dean off of him, flipping his brother over his head and onto his back as he scrambled onto his feet, chest heaving.

Time was running out.

"Let me _go_, Dean." Sam pleaded, feeling perspiration catch at the corner's of his eyes as it slid down his face and drop silently to the ground.

"No Sam." Dean growled, and charged his brother once again, trying in some way to restrain his brother, or keep him from harming others or himself. He dodged Sam's kick, and tumbled on the ground and reached for the fallen knife, bringing himself standing tall with Ruby's weapon on hand. He had no way of containing Sam, not with the way he was, but he might be able to weaken him enough to knock him out in some way.

He just hadn't figured out how yet.

The ground trembling under his feet gave him pause though, and Sam tried to utilize that to his advantage, with disastrous results.

Sam had just reached his brother and tried reaching for the knife as Dean tried to bob and weave, when the ground rocked violently beneath them. It caused them both to stumble violently.

There was a sudden sickening squelching sound, and even though the ground trembled around them, both boys stared directly at each other, not even two feet of space between them, both mirroring the same shocked expression.

Sam stared down at his brother, blinking rapidly a few times to try and clear his vision, and with a hitched breath glanced down between them, just as Dean did.

The knife Dean had been holding earlier was embedded near the middle, though slightly more to the right side of Sam's chest; Dean's bloody fingers still gripping the wooden handle in a white knuckled grip.

Sam raised his eyes to Dean's horrified ones, and tried to get air into lungs that felt like they'd shrunk in size.

"Sammy…." Dean whispered, his own breath hitching as he watched, terrified as Sam coughed and a thin trickle of blood leaked out of the corner of Sam's mouth, just as Sam collapsed to the ground, the knife sliding out of him just as easily as it had gone in.

Dean didn't even have time to catch him, holding the bloody knife in his hand as the blood dripped off the tip of the handle and he tossed it away angrily as he slumped down onto his knees beside his brother.

He was horrified seconds later when the faintest of yellow-tinted light shifted under Sam's skin, flickering a moment before it ceased.

"Oh God, Sam, I didn't…I wouldn't…how…." Dean was babbling and feeling wetness touch the corner's of his eyes as he pressed down hard with both hands on Sam's chest, feeling blood well between his fingers as each touch of blood pushed against his hands in time with Sam's heartbeat. Sam looked at him, just _looked _at him with such resignation it shattered Dean's control and he did cry then, even as the ground rumbled under his knees. "It's going to be okay, alright? I'll get you some help." He tried to smile through his tears and failed, and started screaming for help to anyone he could think of that would do so.

And all the while he knew that this would be the way that they would separate, and that in the end, it was himself that caused the final stroke that would split them apart forever.

* * *

A/N: Uh oh. Guess Sam's in trouble now. *ducks from flying tomatoes* I'll get better *or worse* I promise! :p


	4. Rising

A/N: Okie dokie, here comes the next chapter! :p This definitely drifts to AU territory but bare with me - not everything is as you might think :p ;) Also, this is a first for me, but this *reads over it* yep, whole chapter is done in first person. It was the only way it worked in my head. I hope the change doesn't cause too much of a funk for you in reading :p

A/N #2: Swearing. angsty thoughts. You may need tissues. Oh, and no throwing tomatoes at the author for getting such twisty hurty angsty feelings in this chapter :p ;)

* * *

Dying. It's amazing that so many people are afraid to see what's on the other side, have always loathed and tried to put death off; never wondering what's beyond the black veil.

Dying for a third time should feel like old news.

Dean is leaning over me, eyes wide and pleading as his hands push down on my chest, desperately trying to stop the bleeding – a wound that he himself inflicted.

He and I both know that he won't be able to stop death this time. And this time, I'm okay with that.

My breaths are coming in shallow pants, my lungs feeling like they've been put into a vice. I can't breathe, and it unnerves me, but I'm not scared.

Because I've never been afraid of dying.

I've been around death my entire life – watched someone or something heave in air through damaged lungs, seen the glossy look in their eyes when their hearts stop beating - feel blood run between my fingers when I try to keep their life force from pooling out onto the floor. It's always the same, and it's always hard to watch.

I've been on the dying end enough times to know the feeling intimately, and from the look on Dean's face, he remembers it too.

He's talking, I know he's talking because his mouth is moving, but I can't hear the words, but I can feel the tear drops falling on my face when he leans down closer, as if I'll hear him better if he's right in my face.

Then I feel him being pulled away from me, a not quite familiar face, but an indifferent look all the same coming into my narrowed field of vision.

Zachariah.

Blood is trickling out of the corner of my mouth and Zachariah just smiles apathetically, grabbing my brother by the back of his jacket and literally dragging him away kicking and screaming.

I can't hear the screaming, but I'm assuming its there.

Blood is still oozing from my chest. I can tell by the droplets that continuously roll down my side, staining the ground a vivid red. I can't move to try and stop it, my arms too heavy and weak to lift.

Besides, the cold is already taking over. My brain feels like it's stuffed with cotton, my legs are numb up to my hips, and I can't stop shivering. And I'm choking on my own blood because I don't have the strength to lean over and spit it out.

No one ever said death was glorious.

I move my eyes upward, looking at the dark sky. It's full of bright stars, twinkling in the twilight, even as death approaches in a whirlwind of fire and pain.

My chest stills when my lungs fill up with blood, stilling the straining muscles, even as my heart drums on uselessly, pounding against a frozen ribcage.

It doesn't hurt. It just leaves me feeling cold.

My attention is fixated on the stars, unwaveringly. There's a breeze, warm against cold skin. There are leaves falling silently on the other side of the road. Its calm – as it's always calm before the storm.

And I'm still gazing at the sky when my heart stops beating thirty seconds later.

And all I see is stars.

* * *

I knew I shouldn't have left Dean to deal with his brother.

I feel the tremble under my feet that feels like an earthquake, and I have to stop and spread my feet apart to stay upright, using the shotgun in my hands as extra balance.

It stops about twenty seconds later, and I'm moving again as fast as my old bones will let me.

We had been tracking both Lilith and Sam for the last six days. Or at least, we'd been trying. Sam was proving almost impossible to find, but knowing where that boy's head was at, we knew finding Lilith meant finding Sam.

I should have known better than to let Dean go on ahead.

Sam was getting out of control, as much as it pained both Dean and myself to admit. These powers of his were making him arrogant, bold, and a bit on the side of _fucking crazy_ when he went through withdrawal.

It was a frightening and saddening thing to watch.

We'd tried to force an intervention of sorts on him, and that _so _didn't go well. Sam was furious, and rightfully so, and it wasn't even forty-eight hours later and he was gone.

Dean had been trying to find him ever since.

We finally tracked Lilith down to a small out of the way stone chapel outside of Torrington, Connecticut. We'd packed up and headed off as soon as we had a name.

Dean had explicitly said he would deal with Sam, and that no one else would. I respected his wishes, but now I wish I'd told him to shut his trap.

There was a small barn just a hundred feet or so away from the chapel, and I could tell by the blood droplets on the ground a fight had already ensued.

It didn't take long to see why.

"Oh Sam…." I felt a pressure squeeze around my ribcage, and I let out a shaky sigh, trying to fight tears.

There was blood all over the place.

Sam was lying on the gravel, just under the barn's overhang. One long leg bent at the knee, the other stretched out, blood pooling under his prone form. I dropped to my knees beside him, tilting his bloody head to the side and placing two fingers to his neck against the artery.

I already knew I wouldn't find a pulse, but hope is a prickly bitch, and even the best of us hold out, even if we already know it isn't there. I laid my hand on his shoulder; horrified at the damage done to the youngest Winchester, and knowing who, unfortunately, caused it. I could see Ruby's bloody knife against the barn door, slick with blood, and Dean had been the last one to hold it.

I was suddenly furious at the crap that had fallen on these two boys- my family. Dean for being sent to Hell, his torture at the hands of the demons, and having had to see Dean grieve over the loss of Sam almost two years ago. And Sam for having to deal with Dean's death one year after his own and subsequently thinking he had to go in this whole 'save the world' business alone. That twice damned demon for destroying their lives, even with the bastard already dead and buried.

I had no doubt this time there wouldn't be any deals with demons to bring Sam back. Hell was coming here, and if Dean would have his way, there would still be one bullet left in his favourite colt.

"I'm _so_ sorry Sam. I'm sorry I couldn't help save you. You, perhaps almost more so than anyone, deserved to be saved." I swallowed hard, staring into glassy eyes once so full of life. I couldn't help remembering a gurgling happy baby, whose smile lit up the room. And then an inquisitive toddler, who waddled his way around the junkyard after his older brother. And that same toddler gave way to the sullen teen, who morphed into a strong and proud man whom everyone was proud of – especially his brother.

But it also brought back to me the devastated hunter who had to bury everyone he loved – including Dean, just last year, and the _anger_ that burned behind red rimmed hazel eyes.

"I'll try and keep that idjit of a brother of yours safe, Sam. I'll do my best boy." I squeezed his shoulder, knowing it was more for me than him – Sam was gone and all those feelings from Cold Oak were back full force. I was so _tired_ of burying the Winchesters, and I didn't want to bury the last one as much as I didn't want to bury Sam.

I stood up, grabbed the knife from the barn floor and moved towards the house, not once looking back. I couldn't. If I did, I wouldn't be able to leave. Not that I wanted to leave Sam like that, he deserved far more respect, but the devil himself was coming, and I needed to try and at least save someone, even if I had already failed Sam.

Wiping the blood off from the knife on my jeans made me sick, and I tried so damn hard to forget whose blood was on it.

I couldn't help if a few tears slid down my face, even if they got stuck halfway down my face in my grizzled beard.

* * *

_Sam._

My eyes cracked open at the call of my name. Stars, millions upon millions of tiny twinkling lights dancing all around me like ballroom dancers. It was calming – and if I had to admit it, enchanting. The simplicity of it was soothing to my soul, even if it felt like I was blinking in and out of existence just like those stars.

Time passed, or I'm assuming it did, but it seemed for once, that time held no meaning. I just floated there, never rising, never falling.

There was no sound, no movement of anything else around, and soon darkness claimed me.

_Sam._

I felt something that time. A jolt, like electricity running in my veins where blood once flowed. It was the same soothing voice I had heard once before, though my thoughts were jumbled and I couldn't recall the voice's owner.

_See Sam._

_See what? _I thought aloud. The only thing my eyes could see was the burning balls of gas millions of miles away from me. There was no other form of life in this existence. Perhaps that said something about me.

_See._

That voice was coaxing, pulling, tugging me to _see _but I didn't know what I was _supposed _to be seeing. I watched the lights again, really watching, and I noticed something that I had not before.

They were moving.

Not just blinking in, blinking out, but actually _moving. _And even with that thought, something else came to mind.

Perhaps it was _me _that was moving.

And just like that, those small specks of light were whizzing past me with unparalleled velocity. But it wasn't the speed at which they moved, no, it was something else that tore through me.

It was the screeching that ripped me apart.

I covered my ears, my own screams drowned out by theirs. If this was supposed to be some in between place, it sucked out loud.

And did I ever just sound like Dean there.

_Hear them._

I wanted to tell this disembodied voice to stick their advice where the sun don't shine, but the howls chased away the flippant thought. Grinding my teeth together, I tried to cipher through the static, hear what it was I was supposed to be listening for.

And slowly but surely, I wheedled out the background noise, allowing voices to trickle through. My hands came down from my face as the voices drifted in.

_Their coming! We can't hold them back!_

_Someone help us!_

_Mommy!_

_Are they okay?_

_I don't want to die!_

I inhaled sharply, clasping my hands around my ears again, now trying desperately to block out the voices I'd let in. It didn't take long to figure out that those stars I was seeing? They weren't stars.

They were _souls_.

"What do you want from me?!" I shouted, surprised I still had a voice. The souls stopped moving altogether, the anguished voices cut off in mid word, and all was silent once more.

It was unnerving.

_Death, is only a beginning. _The voice replied; cool as the touch of first snow.

"I think I heard that one from a movie…." I grumbled under my breath.

If a disembodied voice could sigh, this one did. _You have another task to complete, Sam. This one you set aside some time ago. One you must take up again._

I groaned. Was there _ever_ such a thing as the afterlife? I was dead. Can't do the job if you're dead. Yep, sticking to that idea. Wait a minute….

"What do you mean a task I set aside a long time ago?" I was almost afraid of the answer. Couldn't I be able to see my family? See Jess?

If I still had a heart, it would have clenched in pain.

I didn't know if the afterlife had lightning. I couldn't see it, but I could certainly hear it. The darkness trembled in its wake.

_I'll show you. _It answered forcefully.

And then I was being yanked backwards, darkness rippling around me as I was dragged into unending light.

And it was like dying all over again.

* * *

_Pain. _

That's the first thing I know when I finally pry my eyes open. I should be so lucky.

Its how existence was created- through pain.

Being forced to remember who you were – what you _are_, was the same as bringing a scalpel to your brain and making patterns with it – like figure skating.

The image was a fair representation, or I'd like to think it was.

The images I was seeing were no better.

Pain, blood, and screaming. Wings, claws and blades. Metal against metal – bone grinding against bone. It was an unending clash of an unyielding battle. It sounded like it came from a crappy Gladiator movie.

Except I had lived through this one.

The War. Not a piss ant war, not a poor man's war, not World War II - _The _War_. _The one that divided Heaven and created Hell. The same one that split the Fallen from the Angels, the one that took seven long years before we were finally able to send our fallen brothers into their new prison of flesh, blood and bone.

That's what you got for falling.

Our war ended, and humans soon came to walk amongst our carnage. And for the next few eons, we stood watch over the human race. Waiting for the Fallen to rise. And come out of the ground they did.

But we were not to interfere, lest the humans need our intervention.

Humans proved that they were not so easily defeated, and soon they were fighting back against the monsters that haunted their shadows.

The demons, however, were never easily swayed.

To this day, we have only stepped in a handful of times, when things were too close for comfort.

Seven Archangels each took a two thousand year watch on earth, before switching off to let another lead. The Archs - the strongest and most feared of God's warriors, the most vicious in battle. We commanded the others when we stood guard on Earth.

I was one of them.

My times on earth were, as usual, uneventful. Just as Michael before me, I guarded the humans without their knowledge, yet never fully understanding God's grace on these creatures. I had no sympathy for them, no emotions to speak of in regards to these mammals that had just learned to build houses from stone instead of sleeping in caves.

That is, until near the end of my two thousand year watch, _He_ offered me a proposition.

He said that He needed someone to go back – one of us to go and 'mingle' as it were, with the humans.

Become one.

If I had had any idea what the word 'complain' was, I might have done so then. Thinking back on it now, with a human perspective, I would say I was pissed – who _wanted _to be human? Why did he single me out?

Because God had a reason – the man always does.

I would be reborn as a human, go through mundane human life, but my existence would be a warning for the few that knew what it meant.

Because sometime during my human existence, Lucifer would be set free.

And I would be one of the ones to send him back. Permanently. It was my task, and mine alone – and as God asked of me, I accepted.

And then I was falling.

* * *

A/N: Whew! What a twist that was, eh? Really, how many of you saw that one? :p (I have the image of the Shrek 2 crew watching the tv when Shrek, Donkey and Puss in Boots get locked up in the police... chariot? lol. yeah, that's what I picture your faces :p)

Let me know what you think! R&R is always welcomed :) *no flames, please! *


	5. Unleashed

A/N: Well, here we are! Next chapter is up. Still done in first person, but after this chapter, it'll be back to traditional 3rd person. Let's get to some juicy parts, mmkay? *grins* Here we go!

A/N #2: One particular scene in this chapter is a nod towards the movie _Gabriel_, of which part of this story was inspired by. Those of you who have seen it, I'm sure you'll recognize the part I'm talking about ;) Fantastic movie, if you guys haven't seen it.

_Rebirthing now  
I Wanna live my life wanna give you everything  
Breathe for the first time now  
I come alive somehow_

- Excerpt from _Rebirthing_ by Skillet.

* * *

Previously.

_And I would be one of the ones to send him back. Permanently. It was my task, and mine alone – and as God asked of me, I accepted._

_And then I was falling._

* * *

"No! Get your damn hands off me! Sam!" Calloused fingers reached behind and tried to pry the iron grip off the back of his jacket.

"You should be proud of yourself Dean. Got rid of a problem and dealt with it yourself." Zachariah answered dryly as he continued to drag the eldest Winchester towards the stone chapel.

"You sonofabitch! Let me _go!_" He had to get back to Sam. Oh God, Sam was dying and it was his fault. He tried clawing at the hand holding him by the scruff of his neck, feet kicking out in all directions, gravel flying with every movement, but there was no breaking the steely grip on the back of his jacket as he was dragged up the stone steps and into the dimly lit stone chapel.

He found himself brought into what looked like the mass hall, pews lined up on one side, as if someone had pushed them all into that one corner.

He was dropped rather unceremoniously onto the floor, his head smacking hard against cold stone, and it took Dean a moment to shake off the dizziness. When he did, he was scrambling towards the door, which shut in his face when he was but an inch away.

"Open this door _now_!" He spat, with all the poison and hatred he could put into words when whirling on the smug angel.

Zachariah, it seemed, wasn't fazed at all. "You're brother is _dead._ By your own hand no less. Get over it. He was a problem and now he isn't." Shadows of wings appeared on the wall behind him, making the point clear – _you aren't leaving._

"Go screw yourself!" Dean eloquently replied, his attention returning to the door, to which he threw himself at, feeling a piece of him die a little with each blow.

_I killed Sam. I killed him. My own brother. What have I done?_

It was a different force that rocked Dean off his feet, back slamming into the stone floor.

It was an earthquake.

"He's coming." Zachariah hissed, eyes narrowing and mouth forming a snarl as he watched the far window.

The other windows surrounding them exploded, glass skittering across the cold stone like water droplets, demons pulling themselves through shattered archways, black eyes staring at the panel of glass on the far window, the cool window pane depicting the picture of the Angel Michael and his flaming sword, which shattered a few seconds later.

A new angel stepping out of the shards of glass, eyes as wild and as red as the flame that engulfed Michael's sword.

Dean stared up into the eyes of real evil, and the sight sent shivers that rattled his bones and made the very essence of his soul freeze with fear.

The devil had come back at last. And he came back with a smile. "Hello Dean."

_

* * *

_

_The last thing an angel feels, is falling._

I wasn't sure when sky became earth, when air became dirt, or when rain chased away the blood, but I welcomed it. I dragged in a long breath, feeling my chest expand with the inhaled air. I lay there a few seconds, just breathing – feeling air going in and coming out, rhythmic and mesmerizing. I finally pulled myself to my feet, shutting my eyes as I lifted my head toward the sky, feeling rain splatter across my face, obscuring the blood smeared across the plains of my cheeks. The rain was cold, numbing, trickling down my skin in rivets, sliding down my neck and soaking the collar of my shirt. My hair clung to my head haphazardly and rain drops trickled off the ends of my hair, into my face, eye drops clinging to my eyelashes before dripping off and running down my face in mock tears.

I didn't care.

My jacket flapped open with the breeze, allowing the blood drenched shirt beneath to stick grotesquely to my body, the skin underneath now smooth and unblemished where a knife wound had once been – the blood pumping out of me in time with my heartbeat. The same heart that had stopped beating a few moments ago, now beat a steady rhythm against my ribcage.

It was familiar and yet exotic to me all at once. A natural, yet unnatural feeling.

The rain grew more intense, coming at me sideways and I welcomed it like the first real breath of fresh air I had pulled into my lungs in what seemed like a lifetime.

It had already been a lifetime.

Sounds far off into the night called to me. Voices familiar and others just. Two lives, each with its own story, conjoining into one – and I had to learn to walk between them.

But it was two voices that garnered my attention. One distraught and the other gleeful. One that had murdered me, and yet, at the same time, had saved me from what could have been. What _I _could have been. The other would try and finish what the other started, if given half the chance.

After-all, he was pissed off that the last time we'd met; I'd been the stronger one.

My eyes opened, golden irises listlessly watching the black rain clouds hovering in the sky.

Fascinating.

There were voices in the air, whispers carried along the breeze, calling to me. I couldn't see them, but could hear their chorus – their cries for salvation.

Salvation – a word I'd begged for – in both lives. The idea had never changed, only the setting had. I could smell it in the air, taste it on the very tip of my tongue, yet feel it slip through my fingers, and I could only watch as it passed me by. Salvation would have to wait – I've waited twenty-six years for it – and a few million years on top of that – what would another few matter?

The voices were getting louder, the flux of energy I could sense, was getting stronger.

I sighed, lowering my head and glancing in the direction of the voices.

_Lucifer, _my mind supplied, was back. The seals had finally all been broken, seals that I myself had helped create to lock him away in Hell. Lilith was to blame for that misfortune.

The other voice seeped with anger, yet fear was shallowly hidden in the tenor of his voice. The voice of my killer, my saviour, my brother.

_Dean._

Other voices called to me – humans. Screaming, weeping, hollering out to be saved. I stared out into the dark once more.

I was brought back to complete a task, but would I do it? Would I leave humans to their fate? Would I stand by as Lucifer slaughtered them all – one by one?

My eyes narrowed, feet moving silently across the rain slicked grass, edging closer to the dilapidated stone building. _Or will I do what I know is right?_

My footsteps made no sound against the stone steps as I moved to the second floor, my body instinctively knowing where to go. I came up to a large panel of glass, seeing the large room spread out before me. My warm fingers touched the glass, feeling the smoothness of it beneath the pads of my fingers even as the glass trembled under my touch.

I watched silently as Lucifer disposed of two angels effortlessly, his skill and grace unmatched by any below me.

I could feel and hear my sibling's heartbeat as if it were my own, and I could hear the pounding muscle dance to an irregular beat as he watched from the sidelines, pinned to the floor by a demon, a boot crushing my brother to the floor like an insect.

I clenched my teeth together, hands balled tightly into fists as I fought for control over my anger.

I shattered the glass without a second thought, jumping through the now windowless sill, the soles of my feet touching the ground without a sound, regardless of the glass that littered the floor.

Without a glance in his direction, I mentally ripped the demon off my sibling and threw him into one of the large stone pillars, taking pleasure from hearing his spine snap from the blow.

I moved swiftly over to him, feeling the shell shocked eyes of my brother watching me easily wring the neck of the monster that had dared to touch him. His trachea shattered under my grip, and I could feel the burning tingle in my hand as I felt power expel itself out of me, burning energy that engulfed the bastard, essentially ripping his demonic ass to shreds, before sending his ass through the nearest window. I would deal with him later – whatever was left of him.

The hall was suddenly quiet, as all eyes rested on me. I glanced at Dean who still knelt on the floor, blood trailing down one side of his head, down his throat and onto his shirt collar. He stared at me in horror and a mixture of disbelief. I couldn't blame him.

After all, he _had _killed me. It's not often that your dead brother comes back a few minutes later.

I needed to thank him for that when I had the chance.

My eyes rested on the very reason I was here, and dark soulless red eyes stared back at me, a feral grin adoring his face as he studied me – trying to figure out who I was, yet already knowing.

"Well well well, aren't _you_ a surprise." Lucifer purred, the sound coming out like acid burning holes through steel.

"I could say the same, Lou. It's been a while." I drawled back, feeling Dean's eyes staring a hole through the back of my head as I stayed between him and danger.

"Samael, my brother, it's been eons." He cooed, absently sending one of his own skittering across the stone floor as he moved people out of the way so that it was just the two of us.

At the use of my name, Dean's attention was drawn sharply back to me, eyes wide in shock. I could almost taste his fear, his hesitation, his _pain._ He thought he'd released another monster when he killed me.

He just helped make me whole, instead of a half.

I glanced once more at my sibling, smiling a little as I did so, returning my attention back to my old friend. "It's Sam, actually. And I _have_ a brother, Lou."

Lucifer snorted, eyes narrowing at the mention of Dean. "A _human, _Samael? How _pathetic. _They don't even make good _pets._"

I laughed then, finding the statement ridiculous, knowing that even though Dean had no idea what was going on, or how much danger he was in, humor and irritation bled through and he snorted the same time I laughed. "And that's what makes him _more _than any of us, Lou, because God made him human. Because it's humans that will change the outcome of this war – not us."

The man snorted, shaking his head. "You threw your chips in with them? For _him? _Such a pity, Samael, I had hoped you would have come around after all these years." The fallen angel shifted his feet, preparing to strike.

It seems destiny had finally caught up with me, after all this time. But for the first time, I would finally be able to make _my _choice. Good, bad, and everything else in between. Yeah, I thought, someone needs to walk the line – and this time, it'll be _my _choice.

I shifted my feet to match him, feeling the thrill of blood and power pulsing through bone and flesh, hands clenched in anticipation.

I drew in a deep breath from my nose, letting it exhale slowly from parted lips. I still had a small card to play.

"It's Sam, asshole."

* * *

Dean was silently freaking out in the corner at the sudden turn of events.

Not only had they failed to stop Lilith from unlocking the final seal, her body crumpled in the corner, blood weeping from a knife wound to the chest - or the fact that the devil himself was only twenty feet away, but apparently someone was taking his brother's body for a ride.

"Samael, my brother, it's been eons." Lucifer looked almost pleased by this walking talking monster that was using his brother's body.

He could still see the blood drenched shirt, and knew there was a fatal stab wound underneath the layer of clothing. He was so _angry _and _hurt _by this monster wearing his brother's skin like a piece of clothing.

The worst part was that it made him face his worst nightmare – his greatest mistake and rubbed his nose in it. It made tears pool on his lower eyelids. He barely heard anything outside of his own laboured breathing, until he felt a pair of eyes watching him.

That thing that looked like Sam glanced at him, and Dean wasn't sure what was on his face, but it smiled tightly at him – freaking smiled! Before turning away and talking back at the devil himself.

"It's Sam, actually. And I _have_ a brother, Lou." Sam? How could that be? Sam was _dead_. Dean should know. He'd slid the knife through Sam's chest like butter. Had watched the blood bubble up between Sam's lips and had seen the blood spill over his chest like a geyser.

Dean didn't know what was going on, but he hoped in the end, someone would just finish him off quickly, if he couldn't do it himself. They had lost. The war was over.

It had taken almost a year to realize once again that a world without Sam wasn't one worth fighting for.

But apparently the two bastards in the center of all of this wanted to start things off with a bang.

Because suddenly the demon and the thing in his brother were throwing punches – lightning fast and deadly as hell. Dean could barely keep up with their movements.

Dean could see Bobby moving silently in the shadows, keeping away from the two in the center, but his eyes glancing at them over his shoulder every few seconds as he made his way over to Dean.

"We need to leave, Dean. It's too dangerous to stay here."

"I'm not leaving that thing in Sam. I can't let his… _body_ be violated like that." Dean hissed back.

"We don't have much choice at the moment." Bobby was pushing up from his squatted position, eyes focusing on another area. "We have company."

Demons were making their way over to them, dark eyes gleaming with malcontent.

"Fuck em. Let them come." Dean pushed himself up to his feet, swaying slightly from the change in position.

"Indeed." A velvety voice came from behind them. Dean and Bobby turned around and were face to face with Roxa, her tan face tight but her smile genuine, brown-hazel eyes alight with determination as she brushed a few strands of dark brown hair away from her face. Two strong looking men stood behind her – Dean assumed they were angels as well.

"Try not to encourage him, Roxiel." Another voice came from their left and Castiel appeared in the blink of an eye, a few others joining him from behind. His gaze falling on the approaching demons, before resting on the petite female angel.

Dean watched the silent communication between them, Cas nodding when it appeared they'd reached an agreement.

"Pity. I was looking forward to it." She replied to an unspoken question. Turning to her pals behind her, she nodded in the direction of the demons, and they moved forward, faces expressionless as they moved to intercept the demons and essentially cutting them off from the two hunters.

"I will help Sam. You know what to do Castiel." With that, Roxa was in motion, followed closely behind by a morosely silent Zachariah, whose eyes stared wide eyed at Lucifer and the thing that looked like Sam, exchanging blows in the far corner, just before glancing at Dean as he moved past him.

Dean just glared intently back.

"We need to leave." Castiel ordered, his calm and detached voice irking Dean's already diminishing sense of involvement and awareness of the danger around him. He watched detachedly as Lucifer kicked what used to be Sam, sending him skittering across the floor and into one of the pews, the sound ricocheting off the cold stone chapel, even as he saw Roxiel slug the bastard in the face when his attention was still on the _thing. _He refused to think of it as Sam.

A warm hand touched his shoulder and Dean viciously pulled away, snarling as he did so. "Get your hands off me!" He hissed at the angel, who seemed unfazed by the venomous retort.

"Dean…." Bobby tentatively began, hands up in a placating manner.

"Don't! Just don't." Dean threw up a hand to stop his friend from coming closer, even with the shouts and screams erupted as the other angels intervened, demons and angels finally clashing in an all out brawl.

"We cannot stay any longer Dean, whether you want to stay or not." Castiel's voice hardened, a hand snaking out and ensnaring a strong grip of Dean's jacket, his other hand on Bobby's shoulder. "Close your eyes. And whatever you do, don't open them."

Dean was about to bark a protest, but felt the ground leaving his feet and shut his eyes immediately. Silent tears falling in frustration and failure.

They were all going to die now. Everyone. Even if they got away from this battle, there would soon be nowhere to hide.

And Dean hoped the devil started with him first.

* * *

A/N: Looks like trouble ahead for the boys! Yay for conflict! Don't worry, the boys will be in the same room for longer than five minutes in the next chapter :p Reviews are loved.


	6. When the dust clears

A/N: Just want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read and review. Your kind words are always appreciated. :)

Now, let's get this chapter on the go! Grab your teddy bear and some chocolate kiddies, cause some 'awwww' scenes are on the way ;) The boys finally talk!!!

A/N #2: Some cussing. I think you guys get the idea of how much cussing I generally have in each chapter.

Disclaimer: No, sadly, I don't own the boys. Though I'm beginning to think they'd be safer in my hands than Kripke's.

* * *

Dean woke up with a mouth full of cotton and a bad headache. He was back at the motel, lying on one of the unmade beds. Bobby was sitting in the corner, hands clasped together on the small table, looking for all intents and purposes like a dying man.

Dean understood that feeling well.

Dean swung his feet over the side of the bed, feeling Bobby's eyes watching him unobtrusively. He turned his head to the side and could see Castiel standing by the window, the slits of moonlight reflecting off the angel's face, making the tight lines around his eyes seem softer, less hardened by loss.

Before Dean could speak, the angel beat him to it. "The others will be here shortly." His eyes left the window, looking directly at Dean. "Including Sam."

Dean fought the urge to smack that indifferent look off Cas's face. "Sam's _dead._" Dean's voice shook with rage, and despair, his body tight with it even as he pushed himself up to stand. "Are you happy now? Huh? Finally got what you wanted."

The angel stood impassively before him, arms crossed against his chest. "I did not wish him dead. And he is not. He has returned because God commanded it."

Dean was about to tell Castiel where he could shove God, when there was a whooshing sound, and the front door banged open. Zachariah lead the way inside, blood leaking from a busted lip and a large cut on one cheek. "Well don't we have one hell of a mess to clean up." The bitter angel snarled, eyes narrowing on Dean. "Congratulations Dean. You failed." Zachariah grabbed a fistful of Dean's shirt and lifted him up in one hand, slamming the hunter into the nearest wall, the beds rattling from the force. "Now Lucifer is walking free, and we have to save _humans_ at the expense of our own because-"

Whatever he was about to say was abruptly cut off as he was yanked from behind, Dean landing on his feet and began coughing earnestly from suddenly being able to breathe again. A cold voice filled the sudden silence in between Dean's coughs. "You touch my brother again, and it will be the _last _thing you do, Zachariah."

Dean's head snapped up from the voice, eyes finally resting on the form of his brother, albeit bloody brother. Sam's eyes were no longer that inky black, but sold gold once again. That same mesmerizing rich gold color he'd seen only one other time before. Blood trailed down his face in rivets, a long cut above his left eyebrow split open and freely spilling blood. His lip was split on the right side, weeping blood as well. Bruises were already beginning to form near his right eye and cheek. Roxa was wedged under his shoulder, her one arm wrapped tightly around Sam's waist and the other one holding onto the wrist of the arm slung over her small shoulders, trying to use herself as a crutch as Sam leaned on her as he let go of the incensed angel. It was almost comical in a way. Roxa was far shorter than his giant of a brother, but apparently angelic powers helped fix the imbalance. She was having no trouble with the added weight that leaned on her for support.

Zachariah hissed an unknown language under his breath and moved to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Sam grinned at the closed door, before his face became neutral when he finally looked at Dean.

The room was suddenly very quiet. The tension was so high that Dean was surprised you couldn't physically see it. It was like a choker around his neck, getting tighter and tighter the longer he stayed in the room.

"Dean?" Came the worried voice of his brother, whom Dean wanted to believe so badly was him. But how? He'd killed Sam. The angel's wouldn't have brought him back – most of them hated his younger sibling.

Dean shook his head, eyes watering and throat suddenly too tight to answer. He didn't think he could. He felt trapped, he wanted to claw his way out of here and keep running.

Dean noticed Bobby was still sitting in the chair, watching the scene before him intently, but having no interest in intervening.

His brother moved slowly, taking his arm off of Roxa's shoulders and nodded to her; a moment of silent communication between them. Her other arm dropped away from his waist and allowed him to pass, unaided.

Dean had nowhere to go, and he knew that Sam knew that. If it even was Sam. Was it him? Dean didn't know and the fact he didn't made him want to flee that much more.

They now stood face to face, Sam limping the last few feet between them. Sam's eyes shifted back to his normal hazel green, those same eyes beseeching Dean for understanding. Could Dean let himself be vulnerable? Dare to hope?

He bit his lip, taking the plunge. "Sam?" It came out as a croak, his eyes staring directly into Sam's as he waited, hoped.

Sam smiled then, however tightly due to pain it was. "Yeah. It's _me_ Dean."

Dean nodded, jaw clenching as he tried not to cry. Any doubts of it being Sam, the _pre-crazy blood drinking Sam_ were gone a few seconds later when he felt strong arms wrap around him, those familiar strong hands gripping pieces of his shirt, even as he hugged his brother back just as fiercely, pain and loss hitting him anew and he did cry then. He then realized there were three other people standing in the room, but thought to hell with them all and rested his chin on Sam's shoulder, sniffing loudly as he tried to at least hold onto some of his dignity.

They finally pulled apart, Dean keeping one hand on Sam's shoulder and swallowed some of his tears. "How? Why?" He asked the sound coming out thickly, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

"It's a long story." Sam answered tiredly, allowing Dean to pull him over to the nearest bed, feeling himself pushed down so he was seated on the lumpy mattress.

"Does it look like I'm going anywhere?" Dean snorted wetly, trying to subtly get rid of the tears that had somehow clogged his throat and had impaired his ability to talk.

"Actually we are." Roxa's voice drifted over from where she stood next to the door, face returning from that blank look she'd had moments before. "We can't stay here."

"Why the hell not?" Dean asked uncertainly, feeling the pit in his stomach rear its ugly head.

"How long, Roxiel?" Sam asked, trying to stand up, only for Dean to push him back down.

"Not long." She answered shortly, eyes glancing out the window.

"Not long till what?" Dean asked, wondering if people just loved ignoring him to get a rise out of him.

"Lucifer knows where you are." Castiel spoke for the first time, hands clasped behind his back, gaze peering out between thin curtains. "And he's headed this way."

"Shit." That pretty much summed it up. Dean began tossing things into his bag, which had been thrown onto the other bed. Bobby was reaching towards the floor, picking up his own duffel and dumping it on the table, checking to make sure he had everything he needed. Bobby kept silent, to which Dean was grateful. Dean didn't think he could handle too many more surprises or emotional conversations tonight.

Amongst tossing things into his bag, a sudden thought occurred to Dean. "What about the people here?"

He was met by blank stares all around. Dean rolled his eyes. "Are they in any danger?"

Again, no one said anything, not even Bobby, who had paused in his packing, eyes drifting towards the two angels by the front window, their faces sillouetted by moonlight that streamed in through the threadbare curtains.

Dean felt a hesitant hand touch his elbow. "We can't stay here Dean." Sam murmured, his voice tinged with regret.

"Are they in trouble?" Dean ignored him, glancing at the two angels, but hearing the squeak of the bathroom door opening, signalling the third angel had entered the room.

"Some battles you cannot win." Castiel said quietly, eyes downcast as anger clouded Dean's.

"We're not leaving them here to be slaughtered!" Dean yelled, as he threw a stray t-shirt into his duffle angrily.

Roxiel's gaze moved past Dean's tense form and zeroed in on Sam's as he pushed himself up to stand. "You are not going to stay here Sam, don't even try it."

Sam opened his mouth to argue, but was cut off once again. "No, Samael. You are not strong enough to try and take him on your own. He only grows stronger with time and you _know _that." She watched as the young hunter's shoulders slumped in defeat.

Dean frowned, head turned towards his brother. "Why do they-?"

"Castiel." Roxa called to her fellow angel, whose blue eyes watched her silently. "You know what to do." When the other angel nodded in the affirmative, the female angel glanced around the room at all the faces staring back at her. "_Go_." She ordered, before she disappeared in a gust of wind, the sound of wings flapping following suit.

"_Sam_…." Dean whined, needing some support in order to stay. But Sam just shook his head sadly.

"We don't have much choice, Dean." Bobby chimed in; face just as frustrated and apologetic as Sam's.

Dean swore under his breath, zipping up his bag with more force than necessary.

"Grab onto my coat, close your eyes and don't let go." The angel called to the hunters, noticing the hard glare from Zachariah from across the room. The other angel just shook his head and disappeared out the door, bypassing them all without a word.

Castiel watched the other angel with narrowed eyes, but said nothing.

Sam had to push his brother towards Cas, his feet dragging on the carpet. "We can't stay any longer Dean, I'm sorry." Sam tried to bolster something from his brother but just got a downcast stare for his troubles.

The three hunters grabbed a fistful of the angel's coat and had just shut their eyes when they felt the ground disappear beneath their feet.

Dean hoped that those people they'd just left behind died a quick death. And he felt guilt choke him more so than any length of rope in the world could with the fact that thousands of people were about to die.

He hoped the devil started with him next.

* * *

Castiel dropped them off in front of Bobby's salvage yard, amongst the wreaked and totalled cars. They hit the ground with enough force that Dean's knees nearly buckled, and felt Sam tumble into him when he lost his balance.

Stepping away from them, Castiel looked to the sky, seeming as though he was listening to someone.

_Oh yeah_, Dean realized. _Angel FM_. He'd forgotten about that. Lucifer's escape was probably the hot topic at the moment.

"Sam?" Castiel called, eyes finally turning away from the black sky and watching the youngest hunter. It seemed there was a silent conversation going on, in which Sam finally nodded and turned away.

"We'll be in touch." Castiel replied over his shoulder and took off, cool wind blasting them in the face as he disappeared into the night.

"Best get ourselves in." Bobby finally spoke, readjusting his bag over his shoulder and leading the way towards the house, dodging metal, broken doors and glass along the way.

Dean threw Sam's arm around his shoulders and helped navigate them both towards Bobby's front steps, his duffel bag slung over his right shoulder, the bag bumping him with each step he took. Sam stiffened next to him and they both came to a halt when they reached the wooden steps up to Bobby's front door. "Sam?" Dean asked quietly.

Sam's throat bobbed up and down a few times as he swallowed convulsively, mouth suddenly dry.

This was his prison once-upon-a-time, and to say he's apprehensive about going back in there? Yeah, there aren't words for it.

Either Dean has his own mind reading abilities, or he picked up the tension radiating in the arm that's slung over his shoulders, he glanced between Sam and the house and back again, and he seemed to get it. "No, Sam. We're not going down there, okay?"

And okay, Dean knows he sounds like a hypocrite, cause he's already locked Sam down there once, and considered doing it again… before. But he won't put Sam down there. Not again.

Sam hears the truth in Dean's words and he allowed his brother to pull him up the stairs.

Besides, if Dean _had _tried to lock him up now?

Sam would blow the fucking door off its hinges.

And that would be the end of that.

Dean helped his brother inside to the kitchen table, where Sam was plunked down just as fast and hard as Bobby dumped his bag on the linoleum floor, already moving towards the kitchen for some much needed alcohol. It had been a long and disappointing night already. He might as well finish it off with Jack and Jose.

"Okay," Dean pointed a finger at Sam, who merely raised his eyebrows at him, "I want the whole truth this time – no more lies Sam."

Sam blinked a few times then snorted, reaching across the table and picking up the salt shaker and moving it back and forth between his hands, needing a distraction.

"What do you want then?" He finally asked, eyes glancing up at Dean between wisps of damp hair.

Bobby, feeling this wasn't quite the time for him to intervene, excused himself and sauntered into the living room, giving the boys the space they needed. He would get the story out of Sam later.

Sam sighed, then gestured to the seat in front of him. "Sit."

Dean rasped his knuckles on the table. "We should get you patched up, Sam. That head wound needs to be cleaned." He moved to grab the first aid kit, but a strong hand around his wrists pulled him to a stop.

"Leave it. It'll heal on its own. Sit." The voice is soft but the command is anything but.

Dean pulled back the chair and sat, hands clasped together as he leaned on the table towards his brother, waiting.

Sam pinches the bridge of his nose, a headache already forming. "Where would you like me to start?"

"How about after I stabbed you and left you for dead." Dean answered dryly, but there's bitterness in his tone. Sam can hear the self loathing, and he wants to wash that away.

He rubs his face, unintentionally scrubbing the dried blood off, feeling the flecks sticking to his hand, which he wipes on the legs of his jeans as an afterthought. "Fine. You're wondering why I'm not strung out and screaming and yelling like the last time you saw me? I can answer that." He opened the salt container, and liberally poured some on his hand. Dean is watching him silently, eyebrow raised, unsure of what his brother is doing.

"You killed me. But not only did you do that, you used Ruby's knife – the one that is supposed to kill demons." Sam rubbed the excess salt off his hands, his side of the table now liberally coated in salt. "When you stabbed me, you destroyed the demon blood – all of it – Both Azazel's and Ruby's blood." He grimaced a bit at that, but for the most part kept his face neutral. "Then I died." He looked up then, hazel eyes seeking out the murky green ones across the table.

Dean inhaled sharply, feeling the sting of blood on his hands like it had just happened. Hell, it had only happened a hour ago. Two at the most. The loss was still there, as was the anger and self loathing Dean was all too familiar with.

"Look at me Dean." Dean snorted but raised his eyes to look at Sam, who was watching him intently. "It wasn't _your_ fault."

"Oh, so you just fell on the blade then?" Dean answered incredulously.

"If you hadn't killed me, I never would have been brought back."

Dean was quiet a moment, taking that in. "What the hell does that mean? That doesn't even make sense."

"That's because you don't know the whole story." Sam replied coolly, leaning back on his chair, hands still resting on the table top. "If you hadn't killed the demon blood in me, I wouldn't have been able to be brought back. But you did, and because of that, I was allowed to return."

"What? Who yanked your chain back here? Angels?" Dean asked, not believing that they would have given his brother a second chance. But even Roxiel and Castiel were looking at his brother differently now- well, more so Castiel, but they were both referring to him as Samael, which Dean didn't understand.

"I would say its much more likely God gave the go ahead. But yes, angels were the ones that sent my ass back this way."

"Why the hell would they do that? It's not like you're some kind of born again angel or anything." Dean was joking, but noticed Sam squirming in his seat, eyes downcast. "You're shitting me, right?" Dean squinted at his sibling. "You're… you're an _angel_?"

"_Was_ an angel." Sam sheepishly corrected, eyes suddenly finding Bobby's linoleum floor very interesting.

"Is that why they call you Samael?" Dean inquired, still finding this about as ridiculous as grace in a bottle. Oh God, the lives they led.

Sam looked up sharply at that. "Yes. I went by that name a long time ago." He replied solemnly.

"Oh… well alrighty then." Dean pushed up from the table, rocking on the balls of his feet before he moved towards the door.

"Dean, wait." Sam's crestfallen voice cut through Dean, but he kept moving, slamming the screen door behind him as he paced back and forth on the patio, hands clasped behind his head.

Sam appeared a half minute later, letting the door close quietly behind him, his footfalls damn near silent to Dean's loud thumps as he made his way over to his emotionally charged brother.

"What do you want me to say, Dean?" Sam spoke quietly, hands jammed into his coat pocket to keep them warm from the sudden cool breeze that drafted in from the east.

"I want us to have normal lives Sam! Not having to deal with crazy-off-the-wall-put-us-in-a-rubber-room shit all the time!" Dean raged, rounding on his younger brother, who was leaning against the house appearing for all intents and purposes as calm as one would expect if they were talking about the weather or an upcoming football game on TV.

"I know. And I wish I could give you that. But we're not normal Dean, and we never were." Sam answered seriously, watching his older brother pace diligently back and forth across the creaky wooden patio, just waiting for a worn in path to appear.

"Oh, stow the touchy feely Dr. Phil." Dean hissed as he past his brother for the third time in his roundabout pacing.

"Dean…." Sam pleaded somewhat desperately, trying to stop his brother from falling apart, hand coming to rest against Dean's shoulder as he made another pass.

"Don't Sam, just… don't." Dean deflated, finding an old wicker chair and sitting down heavily in it, head in his hands. He didn't know what to do anymore – with any of it. Angels, demons, the apocalypse, he didn't want to be here fighting the supposed good fight anymore. He wanted it to end.

Sam hesitated a few moments before carefully sitting on the chair opposite his brother, elbows propped up on his thighs, head resting in the palms of his hands, leaning towards his sibling. "We can't give up hope, Dean. Whether we wanted this or not, we're stuck fighting this war, regardless of wants and needs." He paused, licking dry lips, trying to figure out the right thing to say. "If we don't fight, then we leave all those people," he gestured with his hand past all the wrecked cars and vehicles, "to be slaughtered." His face hardened. "Can you live with not having tried at all?"

Dean's breath caught in his throat, eyes suspiciously bright, even when they glared betrayal. "That you talking, or Samael? Because either way you're being an ass." Dean watched with little satisfaction as his brother minutely flinched, but said nothing. "Why Sam? Why do we have to fight when no one else does, huh? Haven't we lost enough? Given enough? When does it end Sam?"

"It only ends one of two ways, Dean. And even then, it might not be over." He snorted. "I should know." His eyes roamed past Bobby's mechanical field, watching darkness consume the sky – even the moon was hidden beneath a veil of dark clouds. "We fight because that is what we were trained to do." He continued, ignoring Dean's gaze upon him. "Perhaps this is destiny, Dean. In a way, it's much like living human history in its entirety." He peered at his brother then. "It always comes down to war and bloodshed. The only difference here is that there are six _billion_ human souls on the line. And it's the battle of Heaven and Hell – and we are the battle ground, and human souls are what the ultimate price is."

Dean said nothing for a moment, but found himself saying, "Wow, that was... real poetic Sam. Give Poe a run for his money." He shook his head. "God, you're such a drama queen." Dean smirked when Sam rolled his eyes. "And destiny can kiss my ass. I make my own destiny, Sam, I won't be ruled by it." They were quiet for a few moments, each contemplating what was said.

Finally, Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "Where do we go from here? What do we do about the devil then? What about the people in Torrington?"

Sam let out a long sigh, closing his eyes as he did so. "They're already dead, Dean." Sam replied morosely, fingers tightening around the inner lining of his jacket pockets. He didn't need to see Dean's face to know the pain of loss, the sense of failure there that was misplaced. It was not Dean's fault. If any, it was Sam's. "As for what we can do," he opened his eyes, "we wait for Roxa and Castiel to return. See what information they can bring back with them, and we'll make our next move from there."

Dean nodded sullenly and looked away, his throat constricting as he tried to control his emotions.

Sam reached for him, but drew back, just before touching him. "It wasn't your fault Dean, none of this was." Sam cut his brother off when he opened his mouth to protest. "No, Dean. It doesn't matter if you opened the first seal – it doesn't matter if you were supposed to stop the opening of the last one. No one person could do that alone. We all failed. The blame does not sit on your shoulders and you will _not _harvest that blame for yourself." The last sentence came out like an order, his voice hardening like steel.

"You're channelling Eastwood now?" Dean replied offhandedly. "How do you know they're dead, Sam? I just-" _Don't want to believe they all died._

Sam shook his head sadly. "Their voices are gone. It's silent in that area."

Dean raised his eyebrows, wondering absently if they disappeared into his hairline. "You hear _voices?_"

Sam appeared undisturbed by that, picking apart one of the wicker pieces from the arm of the chair and breaking it off with his thumb and forefinger. "When I was in the area, yes, I could hear them – all of them. Now I'm getting confirmation by word of mouth, and they don't hear anything either."

Dean was perplexed. "Hearing it from _who_?"

Sam just looked at him, as if mentally saying _you're a moron_and giving him the patented Sammy Winchester bitchface.

"Oh. _Oh._" Dean got it then. "Riiight. You can tune into the Angel FM radio, now that you've got…" Dean furrowed his brows, "…whatever it is you've got, Mr. Non-angel."

Sam groaned, leaning his head back on the chair, head rolling from side to side as he sighed.

Dean chuckled. "You'll hurt your neck doing that."

Ever the observant one, his brother.

"Bite me." Sam teased, A few seconds later he brought his head up sharply, staring intently up at the sky.

Dean noticed the frown on Sam's face that wasn't there a moment before. "What is it?"

"They're coming." Sam answered sharply, pulling himself out of the chair and whirled away to the screen door. Considering that Sam had needed help getting into the house not even a half hour ago, Sam was surprisingly spry in his steps, his feet making no sound even on the old creaky rotten patio.

"Who's coming?" Dean tensed as he pulled himself roughly out of his chair, feeling tiny bits of the worn chair break off as he stood up, a shot of adrenaline pumping through his system making his heart begin to pound.

"Cas and Roxa." He answered dryly, pulling the squeaky door open and letting it slam shut behind him.

Dean let out a shaky sigh. "Well you could have just said that you idiot." He yanked on a fistful of his hair in frustration, but followed behind his brother a few seconds later, another slam of the door signalling his entrance into the Singer household.

* * *

A/N: Well things aren't quite peachy between the boys, and now they've got trouble in the form of two angels headed their way. More surprises coming up ;) Reviews are loved.


	7. Questions

A/N: Well the next chapter is up folks! I thank you all for your kind words in your reviews. And to those that review annon, I thank you too :)

A/N#2: This chapter is shorter than the others, but hopefully getting some insight as to what's going on will make up for it. :) Some cussing, as per usual, is in this chapter. And some cuteness ;) Read and enjoy!

A/N #3: In case you forgot (or I forgot to mention) Roxa is similar to Sam in that she gets 'visions'. Or, more accurately, she can look into the future when she chooses, much like Alice from _Twilight _could. (best description I can give you). Just in case you were wondering :p (again, her role will be better explained in the 2nd installment in this series, which is nearing completion)

* * *

Roxa was seated in one of Bobby's kitchen chairs, one leg crossed over the other, hands resting passively in her lap.

Castiel, on the other hand, stood behind her, his hands hanging limply by his sides, shoulders tense, intense blue eyes following the brothers movements as they entered the room, followed closely by a frustrated and confused Bobby.

"That didn't take you long." Dean murmured, taking a seat across the table from Roxiel, while Sam grabbed the seat next to him.

"I'll grab an extra chair from the closet." Bobby muttered, turning around and making his way towards the stairs.

Both angels and hunters waited till the older man came back downstairs with a foldable chair in hand, and only began talking when the other man was seated.

"So what's going on?" Sam asked tersely, hands clasped together in mock prayer on the table.

Castiel answered him quietly. "Lucifer has disappeared. He dispatched his host and fled, taking many lives with him."

Dean sucked in a pain filled breath the same time as Bobby did, but Sam merely narrowed his eyes at the two angels. "So he's gone into hiding then?" Sam hissed, frustrated. "How is it you cannot _find_ him?" Both Dean and Bobby watched Sam with concerned eyes as he pushed himself up out of the chair.

"He's able to cloak himself, Sam. We cannot sense him anywhere." Roxa hedged, feeling the frustration roll off the youngest hunter.

"_Bull shit_." Sam growled, feeling muscles tense all along his body.

"Sam…." Dean spoke his name like a warning.

"Lucifer has not tried to open the gates to Hell." Castiel interrupted, glancing between Dean and Sam as he spoke. "He has chosen instead to disappear; many of the demons that were at the church tonight were destroyed in his wake."

Dean turned green eyes to the angel. "I thought when Lucifer came topside, he'd bring hell with him?"

"He will." Sam answered dryly, feeling all eyes on him. "But he won't risk breaking open the devil's gates with his own powers – he knows it would leave him vulnerable. He won't risk it."

"Indeed." Roxiel added, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"The keys." Sam breathed, feeling Dean watching him curiously. "He'll be looking for the keys to open the gates, so he won't have to."

Bobby interrupted this time. "Do you mean the keys used to open each individual devil's gate? Like the one in Wyoming?"

Roxa beat Sam to it. "Yes. Seven keys to unlock the seven gates of hell. They are scattered all over the world." She glanced at Dean. "You've held two keys in your hands at one point."

Dean frowned. "The colt is the one for Wyoming, but what is the second key?"

"The knife is one of the keys, Dean." Sam answered tiredly, sitting down heavily into his chair.

_Oh. _Yeah, that made sense. Mystical magical keys - Jesus, things just get more and more freaking ridiculous.

"Lilith had the colt, last we heard." Bobby said, removing his baseball cap and scratching rough hair before slipping it back on his head.

"We have it now." Roxiel answered tiredly. "We have others trying to locate the other keys as we speak."

"Can you see them, Roxa?" Sam asked, brows pinched together in sympathy. The other angels would be asking a lot from her in the coming weeks. If Sam were at his full strength, he'd be able to help her out, being that at one point he had as much clairvoyance as she did.

She shook her head sadly. "Not the exact locations, only what will happen once they are found."

Sam could see the crinkle of skin around her eyes deepen. Whatever would happen, it would be bloody.

"He's up to something." Sam muttered under his breath, not expecting an answer from anyone.

"He's not staying on any one given path." Roxiel murmured, eyes closing. "His path alters because he keeps changing his mind about which direction he'll take."

"Just frigging great." Dean rubbed a wary hand across his face. "More song and dance between angels and demons."

Dean looked up in time to see Castiel, Roxa and Sam all stiffen at his choice of words. "What?"

Sam seemed to shake himself. "Nothing." He said, with all the enthusiasm of a five-year-old being told to hop up onto the dentist's chair.

Dean noted the dark bags under Sam's eyes, the way his brow crinkled, and the stubborn set to his jaw and he wondered how much longer Sam could keep this up. Dean knew he didn't look all that much better, but at least he'd had a few hours of sleep within the last week.

Sam looked like he hadn't slept much at all.

Dean pushed himself up. "Coffee, anyone?" Bobby shook his head, and the other two angels looked blankly at him. "Sam?"

"Yeah. Thanks." He mumbled quietly, eyes staring down at the kitchen table.

Dean moved to stand, and noticed Roxiel was watching him carefully. She didn't say anything, but by the slit curl of her lips, she knew what he was planning.

He said nothing as he passed her, moving towards the far cupboard where the coffee can hid.

A few minutes later, the coffee machine was spitting out coffee in spurts, and while the others talked quietly about strategy, Dean snuck around the corner where he knew Bobby kept pain and sleeping medication in the downstairs bathroom. He skimmed through the labels until he found the one he was looking for and picked up the bottle and pulled open the lid, shaking out two white pills into the palm of his hand. He placed the bottle back where he found it and returned to the kitchen, everyone still talking amongst themselves.

Dean wavered a moment, feeling a little bad for this. _Oh well. Been to hell once, what's one more trip? _Besides, this was ultimately to help his brother, not hurt him. With that thought in mind,Dean used the noise of the coffee machine to cover up the sound of him crushing the white pills with the flat end of a butter knife and grabbed two mugs from the dishwasher. He carefully scooped up the now white powder and dumped it into one of the mugs, grabbing the coffee pot and pouring it into the mug, watching the powder dissolve and blend right into the hot black liquid.

"Don't forget the cream!" Sam called from the table, and Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the coffee cream from the fridge, pouring a liberal amount into the one mug, stirring it until the drink turned a rich hazel color.

Pouring some coffee into his own mug and adding more sugar and a touch of cream into his, Dean brought the mugs back to the table and set Sam's down in front of him while he sat back down in his seat.

He'd hoped he had crushed the pills down enough so that Sam wouldn't taste it, and by the looks of things as he watched Sam take another drink from his spiked coffee, he didn't.

Dean smiled into his own cup and took a long sip of his own drink.

Castiel ended up leaving a short time later - apparently he was being called back for reinforcements. He disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving no trace behind, save for the curtain by the window rustling as if a gust of wind had come through the kitchen in his departure.

Sam had finished his coffee almost twenty minutes ago, and Dean could see Sam's head drooping closer and closer towards the table with each passing minute, the drugs finally kicking in. He'd resorted to short answers which were becoming more monosyllabic as time went on.

Bobby glanced at Sam's slumping figure once again, then narrowing his eyes in Dean's direction.

Dean just smiled shyly.

The other hunter just shook his head, sighing heavily.

A few minutes later Sam's head thunked against the table, startling Dean in his seat, but he couldn't quite hold back a snicker at the snore that followed suit. "I think it's time for bed, bro."

Bobby stood up and went to Sam's other side, helping Dean lift the near comatose body between them, moving his brother towards the living room couch. Sam mumbled a few incoherent words, but settled soon after.

Roxa stayed by the living room door, watching the scene silently.

Dean stared down at his younger sibling with mournful eyes. "Bobby?" He asked quietly, eyes not leaving Sam's supine form. "Can you get your first aid kit? I want to clean his wounds before infection sets in. The little bugger wouldn't let me help him earlier."

"Yeah, sure." The elder hunter moved quietly towards the back of the kitchen where his kit was stored.

"He won't be under long." Roxa announced suddenly in the quiet room, eyes alight with mirth. "But he could use some rest, even if he won't admit it to himself." Her voice lowered, as if sensing Sam was listening, just as his head rolled across the arm rest of the couch, face towards Dean. "He's still human, and he needs to let his body dictate what he can and cannot do."

"Right." Dean answered just as quietly. He crouched down next to Sam, swallowing hard at the dark stain that greeted him as he carefully pulled Sam out of his jacket; Sam frowned in his sleep as he was manipulated out of his warm coat. "Sorry Sammy." Dean murmured as he rested a hand against Sam's chest, sucking in a pain filled breath as he gently pulled up Sam's shirt to expose his chest, not knowing exactly what he'd see.

To his surprise and utmost relief, there wasn't even a mark on his chest. Nothing that would have indicated he'd had a fatal stab wound there. Just a lot of dried blood all down the front of him and a developing bruise near his right side. It didn't look too bad. It would just be sore for a few days.

"He was healed before he came back to you." Roxa announced quietly over his shoulder, the tips of her brown hair tickling his neck, causing Dean to twitch where he was knelt over his brother.

"I just…." Dean began, feeling something catch in his throat.

"Needed to see it for yourself." Roxa surmised, squeezing his shoulder in what Dean would have guessed as sympathy.

"Yeah."

Bobby returned a minute later, handing the kit over to Dean and disappearing back into the kitchen, Roxiel following him shortly after.

Dean was glad, it gave him time to give Sam a good once over to see if there was any other damage Sam was hiding from them.

He started with Sam's face, pouring some alcohol into a small cup and dipping the small gauze pads into it before gently wiping it across the top of Sam's eyebrow, feeling Sam flinch from the touch, his face scrunching into a grimace. "Sorry Sam." He murmured, reaching for the clean cloth that Bobby had left with him and pressing it against the cut to dry it and to dull the pain from the alcohol. "At least you won't need stitches this time, huh? That's something at least."

Slowly the tension left Sam's face and his facial features became more restful. Dean efficiently cleaned all the cuts on Sam's face, then checked each of his arms, noting mild bruises that looked to already be healing. Huh.

He cleaned Sam's knuckles that had split from his fight either with him or with Lucifer, Dean wasn't sure, but they didn't look half bad. He palpated the joints in his brother's hands and Dean couldn't feel any broken bones, which was a good thing. He did a quick check of Sam's legs, and not having found anything, reached over to the adjacent chair and grabbed the worn blanket and carefully wrapped it around Sam, tucking the blanket underneath him to keep him warm.

Sam sighed and slept on.

Dean closed the first aid kit with a click, and patted Sam on the shoulder as he made to leave. "Glad to have you back Sam."

When he finally put the kit away and came back to the kitchen, only Roxiel was left standing. "Where's Bobby?" He asked tiredly.

"He said he had some research to do, and then he was going to bed." She answered matter-of-factly. "And he also said you'd fill him in after you talked to me." She tried to hide a smile.

"He did, huh?" Dean raised an eyebrow knowingly.

"After I told him that's what you would do, yes." She watched him a moment, before she sat down on the creaky wooden chair once again, waiting patiently for him to begin. "Is there something you wish to ask me?" Roxa folded her small hands on the worn table top, eyes focusing on the elder Winchester .

Dean glanced briefly at his brother on the living room couch, arms crossed haphazardly over his chest, mouth slightly open, eyes closed in sleep, before returning his attention on the angel.

Bracing his hands on the table and crossing one leg behind the other, he let out a shaky breath before asking her his question. "What do you know of Sam's past?"

* * *

A/N: Oh Dean... what a sneaky bugger you are ;) But one with the best of intentions. :p Now with Sam on a snooze-a-thon, Dean can get around to finding out just what happened in Sam's past - one that Dean can't even begin to comprehend. Read and review guys! :D


	8. Answers

A/N: Well let's sink our teeth into a piece of Sam's past, eh? Dean might be biting off more than he can chew. :p Enjoy!

A/N #2: Swearing, as per usual warning. Oh, and as for some of the info given below (which talks a bit about the angels) is just a quick google search, not much more than that. The information I'm using (and some I found) is just how I'm going to role with it, (and tweak it a bit to suit the story) so don't take any offense with the information. Thanks. :)

* * *

_Previously:_

_Dean glanced briefly at his brother on the living room couch, arms crossed haphazardly over his chest, mouth slightly open, eyes closed in sleep, before returning his attention on the angel._

_Bracing his hands on the table and crossing one leg behind the other, he let out a shaky breath before asking her his question. "What do you know of Sam's past?"_

* * *

He expected some surprise by his request, but received none. Roxa merely cocked her head to the side, looking at him intently.

"Why do you not ask him?" She inclined her head towards the living room, where Sam slept on, oblivious.

"I've tried." He replied hastily, feeling a little guilty for the lie. It's not that he'd outright asked Sam, but Sam was not one for giving up details, especially with what was going on with him. A trait Sam had kept alive all year long with the demon blood, Ruby, and hunts he had gone on and kept to himself until they blew up in his face. Sam was not one for spilling his guts at the best of times.

Roxiel leaned back in her seat, her face turned into a frown. "Why is this important to you?"

Dean pulled back the chair and sat down, brushing away some of the salt that Sam had spilt on the table away absently with a hand. "I want to know what I'm up against - what all of this means for Sam." He leaned in closer, eyes pleading. "I need to know the truth, Roxa."

She didn't say anything for a moment, eyes roaming over him intently. "Alright." She finally spoke, eyes glancing in Sam's direction before resting her gaze on Dean. "But you take full responsibility for this. I know _I_ don't want to take on Sam's wrath if he finds out. You're on your own." She smirked then, eyes filled with mirth.

Dean laughed then. "Scout's honour."

She shook her head. "You were never a scout, Dean Winchester."

Dean grinned then. "No, but I would have made one hell of a Scout Leader."

The table grew silent then, the clock on the adjacent wall ticking with each passing second, the sound of floor boards above them signalling the footsteps of Bobby moving around in his bedroom.

"What do you know of angel hierarchy?" She finally asked, cracking her knuckles in turn with her thumbs. At Dean's blank look, she sighed, dropping her hands onto the table with a muted thump. "Nothing. Of course. Who am I talking to?"

"Hey!" Dean fired back, indignant.

"Don't get your panties in a twist." The angel ran nimble fingers through thick locks of light brown hair, looking far more tiresome than Dean had ever seen her before.

It had been a long night after all.

"There are seven archangels in Heaven – _seven_. Each one commands their own section of Heaven – each leading thousands of garrisons in times of war."

Dean leaned forward to here the soft words, already engrossed in the tale. "Seven? Seems like a pretty big job looking after what, a million angels?"

Roxa smirked at that. "Try several million, Dean."

Dean couldn't say anything about that. "Who are the seven archangels?"

"It's funny that among humans there is so much confusion about that." She stretched out one arm, jerking it quickly until a crack was heard. "Sorry, joints get a little stiff." At Dean's raised eyebrow. "I'm sure you know at least three of them." She hedged, eyes watching the hunter's face.

Dean shrugged. "Well, probably Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. They're the only ones you hear about."

The angel nodded. "True. And yes, all three of them are Arch's." She snickered then. "You could say Michael is the poster boy for angels. He finds it highly amusing."

Dean snorted at that. Who knew angels could have a sense of humor?

Roxiel continued when Dean's attention was focused. "The other four are: Anael, Oriphiel, Zachariel," She paused, watching him closely, "and Samael."

Dean sat back in his chair, eyebrows raised. "Sam. Sam is an _archangel?_"

Roxa raised her own eyebrow. "Does it really surprise you?"

He thought about that for a moment. "No, not really." He answered honestly. And it didn't surprise him. Sam went for what he wanted, and he got it. His brother was driven – it wasn't surprising that he was at the top of the angel food chain.

"Arch angels carry another title - the Powers."

Dean's brow crinkled in confusion. "The 'Powers?'"

The angel sighed, kneading her brow. "The Powers are charged with upholding the balance – keeping good and evil on even footing, without swinging the balance too far in either direction."

Dean thought about that for a moment. "Oookay, so they're like the cream in the middle of the pie, keeping the top crust and the bottom crust from," Dean clapped his hands together, "smacking into each other. I get it."

The angel looked at him blankly. "Your preoccupation with pie is disturbing. Are all humans like this?"

Dean grinned. "Only the best."

Roxa shook her head. "So you say." She glanced out the kitchen window, staring sightlessly for a few moments before finally bringing her eyes back to Dean. "Your brother… wasn't always the cute and sympathetic man you know." She said hesitantly, seeing the surprise on the elder Winchester's face. "Sam was… driven. Very decisive and immensely strong willed."

"That part hasn't changed." Dean murmured under his breath.

Roxa gave him a knowing smile. "No, he hasn't changed in that regard, not surprisingly. Some traits cannot be undone, it seems." She sighed, running a fingernail over the pad of her thumb. "Sam was not always well received by others, because of his… affiliations, and his work for God." Her eyebrows scrunched together, like she was remembering something bad.

Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to know, but apparently his mouth answered for him. "Why?"

Roxiel smirked then. "Because Sam is somewhat of a shade of grey, even in angel terms."

Dean groaned, throwing a hand to his face. "Of course he is."

"Sam could have made the First War very difficult if he had not sided with God."

Her solemn voice had Dean's hand pulled away as if she'd reached across the table and yanked on his arm herself. "What?" He was confused. God, all this angel not-angel talk was making his head hurt. "The First War? You mean when Heaven split and Hell was created?"

She nodded in the affirmative. "Yes. You see, Sam and Lucifer were… close. Like brothers."

Dean swallowed thickly, hoping the angel didn't catch his sudden feeling of melancholy. "Aren't you all brothers and sisters like some weird divine form of the _Brady Bunch_?" He asked sourly.

She ignored his tone of voice. "We are all connected, Dean, but we cannot feel like humans can. That was God's gift to you."

Dean snorted, chin raised in defiance. "Yeah well, God can jam his feelings and emotions where the sun don't shine." He turned his head away, eyes full of anger. Emotions. What a crock of crap.

He felt a delicate hand touch his chin, but the soft skin was not in contrast to the harsh tug on his jaw line, forcing his eyes to the angel's blazing ones. "Some would consider humans superior to angels, Dean. Because God created you that way." She released him.

Dean slumped in his seat, rubbing his jaw with one hand.

Roxiel shook her head solemnly, eyes pinched with frustration. "If it were not for emotions, you would not have gone to hell for your brother. You would not have loved him, nor enjoyed his company. Known what it felt like to _be _a brother, much less an older one." She watched him carefully, seeing him take in her words. "You wouldn't have known the love of a mother, or the pride of a father. Nor would you have known the joy or thrill of the hunt, the pain of loss, or the anger or bitterness of failure." She paused, letting the words sink in. "Being that of stone or brick is not always easy when you see the tree growing beside you. You will outlast the tree, but the tree evolves, grows, and becomes beautiful as it ages. Even when its bark ages and the leaves wither and die, it will have had an existence the stone cannot understand, because the stone is unchanging." She folded her arms across her chest, light brown eyes watching from under wisps of bangs.

Dean swallowed tightly. "Alright, alright! Human's are better off than angels, I get it. What does this have to do with Sam?" He huffed impatiently. Couldn't anyone just talk plain freaking english? Too many metaphors for his liking.

Her eyes hardened. "It has a lot to do with Samael." When it looked as though Dean was going to protest her use of his brother's name, she held up a hand, stalling him. "Sam did not share the same sentiments of humans as he once did, and back then, it almost caused him to fall."

Dean's eyes widened at that. "What? Why?"

She sighed. "Humans had yet to come into being, but we knew it wouldn't be long. Lucifer refused to bow down to what he considered lesser creatures. He started the revolt against God, causing Heaven to split into two factions, as I'm sure you are aware of."

Dean paused for a moment, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "He asked Sam to join him, didn't he?"

"Yes. It was… faith, that kept Sam from falling, but the temptation was always there to betray God." She rubbed the side of her head, as if a headache was forming.

"But he fought against Lucifer?" Dean's fingers on his right hand curled into a fist.

She nodded. "It was a difficult fight by both sides." She paused, thinking. "When Lucifer and his fallen were defeated, God cast them into the deepest and darkest pit of fire he could create – Hell. And he also created the cage that would contain Lucifer. Sam and the other six archangels put the locks on the door."

"They created the seals." Dean inhaled sharply, following her train of thought. "Now that he's out, they have to recreate the seals, don't they? Or destroy him."

Once again, she nodded. "The seals are being remade as we speak." Her eyes glanced away abruptly, like she'd said too much.

"So then why…." Dean faltered, unsure of how to ask such an absurd question.

"Why did Sam end up here? And as a human?" Her eyes were alight in mirth. "I was getting to that. Very few, if any, knew where Sam had gone when he disappeared."

Dean fought a grin. "But you knew, didn't you? You knew this whole time who Sam was."

Her sheepish smile was given in reply. "I did." Her smiled faded. "I didn't know for sure if Sam would come back to himself." She admitted quietly. "The demon blood clouded so many of his paths, I couldn't see them all." She sighed tiredly. "I could only see so many futures, but none of them were certain. The future is always affected and altered by choices, and Sam had yet to make the important ones. The same as you."

Dean rubbed his face tiredly. "So you really didn't think Sam would -"

"Wake up?" A tired voice called from behind him, causing Dean to jump in his seat, even as he turned around and studied his brother's tired features.

"That was always a possibility." Roxa replied, seemingly amused, watching the scowl on the elder brother's face grow.

Sam's gaze slid over to Dean's, watching him warily even as he pulled the chair out beside his brother and sat down heavily onto it. Rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand, Sam focused his gaze on the woman across from him. "Telling war stories again, Roxiel?"

She smiled at him courteously. "Only our most bloodthirsty. Seems to be the only way to have the young ones pay attention."

"Hey!" Dean's indignant squawk at the reference to being a child went on deaf ears.

Sam scratched lazily on one shoulder. "Hmm… I don't think filling my brother's head with our history will serve any needed purpose other than fill his mind with half baked ideas." Sam mused, but there was an undercurrent of emotion that Dean picked up on immediately – anger.

Seemed Roxa was right on the money, as always.

She glanced once more at the both of them, before placing her palms on the table and pushing herself up. "I've stayed as long as I could." She said, moving with lethal grace towards the door, the boys shadowing her footsteps, Sam trailing behind his brother.

At the door, she paused, glancing back at them with intense brown eyes. "We'll keep in touch, as best as we can."

Dean spoke first, hands jammed into his pockets to keep himself from fidgeting. "Thank you, you know, for everything." He said it honestly. If it hadn't been for her and Castiel, he might not have gotten Sam back. Hell, he might not have survived at all without their help.

She smiled at him then. "You're welcome." She flicked her gaze over to the youngest Winchester, taking in his rigid form. She internally sighed. It would take some time before Samael – Sam, would be ready to fight Lucifer again. He would need Dean's help before the end. They would need each other. Of that, she was certain. "Take care of yourself, Sam."

He nodded silently. "You too, Roxa."

They stared silently at each other for a few moments, before Sam glanced away. Roxa opened the door and stepped out into the chilly early morning air and was gone in the next breath, the door banging shut in their faces from the backlash of wind from the angel's departure.

"Well," Dean scratched the back of his neck, feeling more wary at this moment in time then when he had set out days before to find Sam, "I don't know about you, but I could use a few hours of shut eye."

Sam's eyes roamed over him, scrutinizing him and Dean shifted under the hard stare. Sam looked away, towards the stairs, before glancing back at his brother. "I suppose."

Dean shook his head, moving towards the staircase. "You suppose, huh?" Clasping the banister on one hand, he looked over his shoulder at his silent brother. "You coming or not?"

Sam chose not to answer, but followed him up the stairs after a moment's pause.

"And how the hell are you awake anyways? I put enough tranquilizers in your drink to knock out a bull elephant for half a day." Dean grumbled, feeling the stairs creak under his feet as he lead the way up towards their shared room.

He couldn't see Sam's face, but could hear the smugness in his voice. "I'm obviously not a bull elephant."

Dean shook his head, glancing at Sam over his shoulder. "Apparently not. You're something else entirely."

Sam frowned darkly behind him.

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A/N: Alrighty, there's some meat to sink your teeth into :p There is more coming up about Sam's past in the next chapter, so stay tuned! (teehee, totally pulled a Kripke there, lol) Reviews are loved. :)


	9. Truth and Consequences

A/N: Alrighty! Well folks, this is the second to last chapter. We have some Dean/Sam interaction and some much needed venting and divulge of some Sammy secrets ;) Oh, and some bro fluff cause I can't get enough. Seriously, they deprived us of it in Season 4. I'm just... fixing that for everyone :D

A/N #2: Cussing. You know the drill. Also? Creative licence with Sam's background. There was already sand in the box (being some factual background - meaning wikipedia) and I threw in my own sand and make a sand castle. Don't take any offense if this doesn't jive with your version of Angel's and what they do :p And any spelling errors are sadly mine. I hope there aren't any (or if there are) not many :p

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Sam was already lying in his bed, blankets tucked up right under his arms as he lay on his side, facing away from the door as Dean walked in, closing the door quietly behind him and moved silently to his own bed, unhindered by a barrage of demands and angry questions. Instead he was dealing with a sulking pissed off brother, and Dean didn't know if that was any better.

He had only just settled in and fluffed up his pillow when Sam's quiet voice broke the silence.

"What did you ask Roxa about?"

Dean sighed into his pillow, eyes pinched shut. Guess they were going to be talking now, apparently. "Just chit chat, apocalyptic stuff, same old."

"You were asking about me." It wasn't said accusingly, like Dean expected, kind of more like a friendly request. Weird.

Dean flipped onto his other side, facing his brother, the bed springs squeaking in protest. "Yeah, I was. Would you have told me the truth if I'd asked you?"

Sam turned his head to the side to look back at him, now lying on his back, pausing as he thought about his answer. "No, probably not."

Dean sneered slightly, snorting as he rolled his head across the pillow. "Of course not. And that would be why I asked Roxiel and not you. At least she'll be truthful."

Dean could hear his brother cursing up a storm, heard the covers of his sibling's bed thrown off and felt his bed dip near his right foot as Sam sat down.

"There are reasons _why _I don't want you to know about my past, Dean." Sam's voice was smooth, but the edge of fury was there too. It set Dean on edge.

Dean pushed himself up, back resting against the flimsy backboard and stared down his younger sibling. Moonlight streamed in from the closed blinds, illuminating strips of Sam's face, making his eyes seem alight but hard as stone at the same time. He could see the tight lines around his brother's eyes and mouth, how his brow creased in anger, even the tightness of his jaw as if he was trying to keep something ugly or hurtful from coming out. "Yeah? What's so horrible that you can't tell me Sam? I mean, it can't get any _worse_ than sucking back demon blood like freaking bloody martinis, can it?"

He watched as Sam's eyes tightened, registering the hit, but the explosion of anger he expected never came.

It was so unsettling, Sam's new found behavior. Where he expected anger, he got this calm facade. When he expected a snort of derision, or hell, even a laugh or two, he got a disproving look, or a down right glare. Sam was a walking, talking contradiction, and Dean couldn't discern if it was from Sam getting angelfied, or if he was developing a split personality from all the mental strain of the last couple of years.

But he was leaning towards the former, at the moment.

Sam licked his lips, glancing towards the covered window, seeing peeks of light shine through the thin blinds, before turning back on his brother. "How many people have you killed, Dean?"

Dean's eyebrows were near his hairline. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

Sam's voice was steely and cold. "Just answer the question."

Dean swallowed hard, trying to guess on how many had died because of him. He shook his head finally, eyes cast downward. "Too many."

Sam snorted, eyes blazing. "Not enough for your level of guilt."

At Dean's wide-eyed look, Sam sighed, rubbing a frustrated hand down one side of his face. "You don't know death like I do. No matter how many people died because you weren't fast enough, bogged down with your own injuries, the people you killed while they were possessed-" Sam paused, eyes raised to meet his brother's, "or the people you tortured in Hell."

Dean inhaled sharply, feeling the tight band around his chest tighten exponentially. "Why are you telling me this? You haven't lost as many people, you don't know Hell-"

Sam laughed then, the sound strangling out of his throat like it had clawed itself out. Dean cringed at the sound.

"Who the hell do you think I am, Dean?" His eyes narrowed. "Who do you think I was back then?"

Dean paused a moment, taking that in. "What does this have to do with how many people I've killed?" He asked carefully, watching Sam's face tighten fractionally.

Sam's smile didn't reach his eyes. "You wanted to know my past, didn't you?"

Dean didn't have anything to say to that. He wished now he'd kept his mouth shut. Be careful of what you wish for – whoever said that was genius. "What does that have anything to do with your past?"

Sam seemed to almost loom over him, even from his perch at the end of Dean's bed. Dean's skin prickled like ice had leached onto the very hairs of his arms.

"Because I _am death._" Sam watched with little satisfaction as his brother seemed to shrink in front of him. "I brought it to whomever I was commanded to 'pick up'. Be that a demon, a human, or something else entirely. I lived and breathed it." He watched Dean swallow thickly, knowing that however rare it was, his brother was momentarily speechless. He pressed on, knowing that he needed to say what he needed to say, and let Dean make the next move. "I was given the duty of ferrying souls to the other side – purgatory. That's where the souls are laid bare - where they are judged." He paused, letting out a wary sigh. "If they were found wanting, I showed them the way to Heaven."

"And if their visa didn't fly?" Dean asked quietly, already knowing but needing to hear the answer from his brother regardless.

Sam looked him directly in the eyes and replied coolly, "Then I tossed their souls into the deepest pits of Hell that I found most suitable for them."

Dean let out a ragged breath, feeling his heart pounding away in his chest. Talk about an anvil being dropped on your head. He didn't know what to make of his brother's revelation. "I thought death rode on a pale horse? Why do you - did you - ferry the souls? Isn't that a reaper's job?"

Sam smiled grimly at him, which did nothing to ease Dean's apprehension. He'd asked for the truth, but he wasn't sure what to do with it now that he had it.

"Death _does _ride on a pale horse." Sam paused for a moment, frowning. "He's kind of a dick, if you ask me." Dean merely snorted. "He is death, but I am the angel _of _death." Deep green eyes blazed as they sought out Dean's. "Each side has a ferrier - a herder of sorts. One of Heavenly descent, and one of Hell. Death himself is fairly neutral, except he has affinity for Hell. He reaps the souls generally bound for the pit before they even reach the boarders of Purgatory."

Dean considered that, lazily scratching an itch on his arm. "And Reapers?"

Sam sniffed, tilting his head ever so slightly to the side. "They work _for _us. They are the neutral party among all in Purgatory. They could care less who wins, so long as they get to do their job and ferry the souls between worlds." Sam paused, watching Dean curiously. "Are you finally afraid of me?" He asked, eyes wary and his voice tinged with an emotion Dean couldn't quite place. Almost like Sam was waiting for a blow or something to fall out of the sky and drop on his head at Dean's command.

Dean looked away from his brother, trying to take everything that had been said and try to make sense of it all. He wasn't… frightened of his brother, no way. He'd helped raise the kid into the man he is today… even if Sam did have an existence before this one, Dean liked to take some pride in how Sam turned out. Well, okay, minus the demon blood drinking, he wasn't proud of Sam having done that. But the rest of the Sam he knew? He didn't want Sam's past erasing that. He kind of now understood why Sam didn't want to tell him about his 'past'. It was no different he supposed when he didn't want to tell Sam about what he'd done in hell. The truth hurts, even if one should hear it.

And to hear Sam talking about humans as if he wasn't one? Yeah, that made his stomach twist into all kinds of funny knots and corkscrews. But still. "You still should have been the one to tell me, Sam." He answered finally, honestly. "I want you to be able to tell me this stuff without me having to ask someone else for the same information."

Sam looked away into the dark corners of the room. What he saw Dean wasn't sure of, but he could tell Sam's thoughts were going a mile a minute.

"Sometimes, I have to keep things to myself." Sam finally replied, downcast eyes finally glancing upward at his elder brother. He continued on before Dean could protest. "It's not that I'm keeping things purposely away from you out of spite, that's not it at all. There are some things you just… don't need to know. Just like you don't want me to know about what you did in hell. If it's going to affect us, then I'll bring any important information up. But I want you to let it go, Dean. I _need _you to let it go." Sam didn't often plead or ask anything from his brother, but he was doing it now. He grimaced a bit at that. Okay, so he'd asked his brother for trust before and it was shoved back in his face. It was a lot to ask for, he knew. He knew he probably didn't deserve it considering all the secret keeping he'd done the past year, but even then, it was to protect Dean, not with any kind of malicious intent. Dean was naturally curious, perhaps even wary and frightened of their situation, of _him, _but his past, his secrets, were meant to stay in the past. And he was hoping his brother would grant him this much.

Dean's face scrunched up between his eyes, concentrating, calculating, deciding. Finally he closed his eyes briefly while pinching the bridge of his nose, blowing out a loud sigh before looking at him again. "Yeah, alright."

"Thank you." Sam said, internally grateful. He had no doubt Dean would bring up the topic again, but for now, at least for a little while, Sam would be able to keep the darker secrets to himself.

They sat there silently for a few minutes, the sounds of their calm breathing the only noise within the fairly large room. Finally, Sam made to stand up, gently patting Dean's blanket covered knee before pushing himself up, spine cracking as he stretched, and moved over to his own bed, sinking down into it gratefully. He slipped underneath the sheet and pulled the worn dusky blue blanket over him, turning on his side facing his brother as he slipped an arm behind his head, under the pillow, trying to get comfortable. "Goodnight Dean." He said, yawning soon after.

"Goodnight Sam." Dean replied quietly, body sinking down into the mattress as he scooted down until he was lying down once again, eyes watching the ceiling.

Dean stared unseeingly at the ceiling for a long time, one arm wrapped around his head, the other one playing with a hole in blanket. "Sam?" He asked, knowing that his brother wasn't sleeping yet.

Sam sighed quietly. Oh, so it was going to be one of _those _nights. It wasn't like he drugged and ready to drop or anything…

But Dean needed this. And maybe a part of him did to.

His pillow crinkled as he lifted his head up. "Yeah?"

"Is there, ah, you know," He cleared his throat, "really a Heaven?" He kept his eyes on the ceiling, feeling the slight burn of embarrassment in his cheeks.

Sam was quiet a moment, trying to figure out where this question was coming from. "An _angel_ pulled you out of hell, and you're wondering if there's a Heaven? They don't sprout out of the ground like potatoes."

"Forget I asked." He grumbled, turning away from his brother and punching his pillow a few times before flopping down, sighing as he did so. Dean heard a groan from the other bed, and soon felt deft fingers on his back, pushing him towards the other side of the bed, feeling Sam's weight dip the mattress for a moment before settling, his brother's back resting against the headboard.

"What the hell Sam?" Dean asked, looking over his shoulder and noting the curious look on Sam's face. He flipped over again, propping his head up on his hand while his elbow dug into the soft mattress. Sam's flip flop of being hard as nails, to being that liquid doe-eyed puppy of yesteryear was draining, but... he'd kind of missed that gentleness about Sam.

Sam lowered his gaze, looking at Dean with calm hazel eyes. "Why do you ask?" Sam's voice held none of its earlier scepticism, only curiosity.

Dean sighed heavily, absently scrubbing his face with one hand. "It's just, well…." He didn't know how to explain his question properly.

Sam seemed to get it though, however he knew. "With everything going on, how can there be one?" At Dean's nod he continued. "I know that it's cliché to say, but God does work in mysterious ways." Sam's eyes focused on the far wall, noting the strange patterns the light from under the door made as Bobby passed by, probably heading towards the bathroom at the end of the hall. "Heaven is like _nothing_ you've ever seen. It's… peaceful, elegant." He closed his eyes, remembering. "There's no fear. No pain. It's like being truly _alive_ for the first time." He opened his eyes and looked down, seeing the wheels in his brother's head turning. "You'll get to see it one day Dean, I promise you that."

Dean paused for a moment, thinking. "You're not going to suffocate me with my own pillow to get me there, are you?" He deadpanned, watching the smirk spread across Sam's face.

"If you keep making me get out of bed, I will."

Dean scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I never asked you to come."

"You didn't have to." Sam answered quietly, and Dean felt gut punched - like his intestines had uncoiled for the first time in a long time. For Dean, it has felt like ages since he and Sam had finally _clicked_, and to even have that sense of 'rightness' between them, if only in fleeting, it felt right.

Sam sighed fondly, smiling even as he shook his head. "Go to sleep, Dean." He patted his brother's shoulder, feeling stiff muscles relaxing under his touch as he once more stood to move to his own bed. "We can have this philosophical discussion in the morning."

Dean couldn't help but laugh into his pillow. "Right. Because I'm a philosophical kind of guy."

Sam shook his head, sinking down onto his bed, hearing the creak of bed springs as he got comfortable. He pulled the blankets up to his chest, tucking the blanket tightly around himself like a cocoon. He'd only been doing that the past twenty-six years. "Good_night_, Dean."

Dean turned on his side, staring at the window a moment, before finally shutting his eyes. "Goodnight, Sam."

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A/N: Well guys, one more chapter to go and this story is finished up! :D

Reviews are loved.


	10. Chess pieces

A/N: Well guys, it's been one hell of a ride. This is the last chapter. I hope you've enjoyed this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. A special thanks to Amy for her late night chats and support to help me actually finish this story. And to Donna who made me dig deeper into the mythology of my own series, whose help has been most appreciated and will be seen in greater detail in the next story.

And a big thanks to all the reviewers who have stuck with me from beginning to end.

A/N #2: Some angst, a little swearing, and some family love.

Disclaimer: Nope, the boys and Bobby and Castiel and all other minor characters seen in Supernatural are not mine. I think they'd be safer with me than Kripke, but I haven't yet been able to claim ownership.

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Dean yawned loudly, raising his arms above his head and stretched, before descending the stairs, feeling the familiar creaks and squeaks of the floor beneath his feet. He meandered into the kitchen, watching absently as Bobby used a pair of tongs to pull a piece of bacon out of the wrappings and into the frying pan, hearing the sizzle and pop as the bacon began to fry.

"Morning." He murmured, still trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes as he opened a cupboard door and pulled out a mug, reaching for the coffee pot while looking for a clean spoon.

"Morning." Bobby replied over his shoulder, moving over to the fridge and pulling it open, bending down and picking up a carton of eggs from the second shelf, absently kicking the door closed when he was finished, placing the eggs on the counter beside the stove.

Dean pulled the fridge door open again, reaching for the coffee cream and closing the door, liberally pouring the thick cream into his coffee, stirring absently as he looked out the window at the bright sun kissed sky. "What time is it?"

Bobby checked his watch between flipping the pieces of bacon over. "About quarter past eight."

"Have you seen Sam?" Dean woke up to an empty room and hadn't heard his brother leaving their room that morning. It didn't want to admit to being a bit panicked initially, before common sense dictated that Sam probably went downstairs for coffee, the freaking early bird.

He wouldn't admit that the thought of Sam taking off had crossed his mind.

Bobby pulled open the carton of eggs, cracking one open against the side of a frying pan and watched as the egg dropped onto the worn surface, spitting and crackling and he tossed the empty shell into the garbage can at his feet. "He came down just before seven." He turned around so that he was talking to the elder Winchester face to face. He noticed that the cup in Dean's hand had stopped its advancement towards his mouth, his eyebrows raised. "What?" He asked grumpily.

Dean couldn't believe it had taken him this long to notice the white apron that the elder hunter was wearing, and couldn't help but snicker at the words _kiss the chief_. "I know you're the man of the house, but I didn't think that meant you were also the _woman_ of the house too."

He could just catch the faintest glimmer of red on Bobby's face, and fought hard not to laugh out loud.

"Shut it boy, or you can get your own damn food." He barked, returning his attention to the stove, flipping the strips of crisp bacon over again and turning down the heat on the element.

Dean shook his head, hiding his smile behind a swallow of coffee as he brought the mug to his face. "Do you know where Sam went?" He asked after another few slurps, one arm leaning against the counter by the sink.

Bobby didn't turn around. "I think he's outside. At least, that's the last time I saw him after we talked."

Ah. So perhaps that's why Sam had gotten up early. It made sense. Dean still wasn't sure how much Sam told Bobby about what happened last night, or what was actually going on with Sam, but he assumed the information his brother had given Bobby had been sufficient enough that the grizzled old hunter wasn't hunting down one of their asses, demanding answers.

Bobby glanced at him over his shoulder, as if reading his thoughts. "We talked enough. Go get your brother. Breakfast is almost ready."

"Yeah." He muttered, pushing himself away from the counter and moving towards the front door, his coffee still in hand. He pushed the door open and grabbed its frame before it could slam back in place. He let it close quietly behind him, and stood on the porch, seeking out the tall brooding bulky form that was his brother. "There you are." He spotted Sam sitting on the edge of the railing, one leg propped up on the railing while the other one stabilized him by resting on the patio, the tip of his sneaker brushing against the deck.

There was a slight breeze in the air, causing Sam's bangs to sway a bit with the breeze, dancing across his forehead. Dean followed Sam's gaze out into the yard, but didn't see what held the youngest Winchester's attention so thoroughly.

Dean settled down beside Sam, forearms leaning against the railing, cradling the mug in his hands as he stared out into the vast museum of rusted cars, trucks and other hunks of junk Bobby had lying around. "I don't see a beautiful woman dancing topless, so I can't figure out what you're staring at." He teased, noticing the slight curl of his sibling's lips as he tried not to smile.

"You bring me one?" He asked, finally turning his head and meeting his brother's eyes for the first time that morning.

Dean frowned slightly, noticing the tightness around Sam's eyes, as if he was forcing himself to be polite. And if he was being honest, the wound above his eyebrow looked almost healed. That's odd. "What? My coffee? Get your own, bitch." He teased, bringing the mug up to his lips to take another sip, just to be ornery.

Until Sam snagged it out of his hands, taking a rather large swallow for himself.

"Hey!" Dean hissed, making a move to grab _his_ coffee, but found himself grabbing air as Sam danced out of his reach, now leaning six feet away against the paneling of the house. "Jesus, you move fast." He stammered thickly, feeling his jaw begin to slip open in surprise. Sam was fast, but _damn._

Sam held the mug in one hand, smirking like the cat that caught the canary. "Could use a little more sugar." He answered dryly, taking another swig from the mug before walking over to his brother and placing the mug back in Dean's hands.

Dean glanced down. The mug was empty. "Bastard." Dean grumbled, but it held no heat.

The banter died off, leaving two silent brothers in its wake. Dean manipulated the now empty mug between his fingers while Sam shifted the weight off one foot and transferred it to the other, neither one knowing what to say.

Dean finally broke the silence, eyes finding a spot on the panelling behind Sam's head to stare at. "Bobby says he wants us in- breakfast is almost ready." He hitched his thumb towards the door

Sam nodded silently, hands now jammed into his pockets as the wind nipped at his fingertips. "We should hit the road today or tomorrow." He said roughly, pushing himself off the wall he'd been leaning on and moving towards the wooden steps, face hidden by bangs as a breeze gently brushed them into his eyes.

Dean swallowed hard. "Why? You got somewhere you need to be?"

Sam shook his head. "We're safer on the road than staying in one place." He answered tiredly, rubbing his hand against his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of stubble there – he needed to shave after breakfast.

Dean ducked his head. He got the hidden meaning. _We're putting Bobby in danger by staying here. _"Yeah, okay." He absently scratched his neck, grimacing a bit when he touched a bruise near his left shoulder blade from where Sam had pinned him against the barn wall when they had been fighting last night.

He shut his eyes to try and block out the images. _Not going there. _"Anyways," he sniffed, shoving one hand into his jeans pocket, "Breakfast should be ready, so I'm going to go grab something to eat – before Bobby manages to put it all away. Man's a machine at the table." He had only taken a couple of steps before a strong hand wrapped around his upper arm, stilling his movements.

"Dean." Sam seemed to falter, biting his tongue like he usually did when he didn't know what to say. He glanced sharply away, and then looked back at his older brother, a multitude of emotions and questions playing across his face. "I'm sorry." He finally said, voice full of regret. "For everything." He looked down between them, hand still firmly wrapped around Dean's bicep, and let out a sigh, before bringing his head back up to meet Dean's pain filled eyes. "I know it doesn't change anything, but it still needs to be said."

Dean swallowed hard, nodding his head while he tried to dredge up some words for his brother. "It helps." He said simply, tapping Sam's arm that held his own. "And I'm sorry too." Apologizing wasn't going to solve all their problems – they both had wounds, both physically and mentally, that would take time to heal. But they were finally being honest with one another, and stepping up and putting aside their pride and differences and admitting some fault. It was a step in the right direction. Dean knew the process would take a long time before he and Sam could work everything out between them – but he was in this for the long haul and he desperately wanted to have a good relationship with his brother again, and perhaps starting over would be the best way for them both to move on.

Sam finally released his arm and Dean sniffed, both standing their awkwardly. "So can we _please _go eat now?" Dean almost begged, needing to get away from the emotional atomic bomb that had been dropped onto his lap. Geez, it wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning yet!

Sam snorted, shaking his head in amusement. "Go on, I'll be there in a minute." He watched his sibling practically rip the door off its hinges as he made a mad dash inside, probably to get away from the emotionally charged talk they just had, as well as to get the first handful of crisp bacon Bobby had no doubt just put on the table.

The youngest Winchester sighed, moving out towards the railing again. He placed is large hands on the banister and leaned over, looking out towards the sky, which had clouded over with dark clouds and a deep rumbling that signalled thunder. He narrowed his eyes at the sky, even as a large gust of wind whipped through the narrow patio, his hair blowing haphazardly across his face.

The final setup was all in place now – the chessboard all laid out, and the first pieces were about to move. God and the devil were about to play the most dangerous game of chess this world had ever seen. And Sam needed a way to tip the game in his favour, or risk losing everything.

And he knew how he could tip the balance, but to do so?

It would mean losing everything.

Including Dean.

His thoughts drifted to the conversation he'd had earlier that morning out on the steps of Bobby's junkyard, where the first of Heaven's pieces had made a move.

* * *

Sam stood by at the top of the front stairs, leaning against one of the columns holding the front porch in place, not staring at anything in particular, but eyes scanning over the tops of broken cars, body motionless as he settled into the silent scenery.

There was a presence behind him.

Sam's eyes flickered gold for a moment, head tilted slightly to the left, and just on the fringe of his peripheral, he could just make out a long tan coat. "Castiel." He breathed, eyes returning to the front yard, ignoring his new companion.

"Sam." The angel replied courteously, moving so that he was standing to Sam's right, gaze also roaming across the junkyard.

"Dean is upstairs. Don't wake him." Sam spoke calmly, eyes directed forward without looking at the angel beside him. There was an undercurrent of protectiveness in his tone.

"I did not come here for your brother." Castiel finally turned his head so that he was speaking directly to Sam, eyes pinched at the corners from stress. "I came here for you."

Sam huffed, finally gazing down on the shorter man. "Of course you did." He shifted his stance, moving slightly so that he still leaned on the column, but twisted around so that he faced the angel. "Speak." Sam cool voice demanded, broaching no argument. Since he'd regained his memories, he no longer felt any lingering doubts or fears of the angels. He _was _one. And in the hierarchy of angels, Sam was damn near at the top. Before that, there was always that thrum of fear in him, a lingering bad taste in his mouth like moth balls when Castiel and Uriel were around, because of what he had been doing with Ruby. It was human fallacy concerning angels and demons that coloured his thinking and judgement, and he didn't have that weakness now.

Dean would think he'd lost his humanity if he guessed at Sam's train of thought.

But Sam was falling back on instinct, one that far outweighed his twenty-six year experience as a human. Archs were God's most feared weapons for a _reason_. They weren't the foot soldiers that Castiel was – they were the warriors that wrought destruction without any conscience or indecisiveness.

Indecisiveness was what killed him the first time.

He would make sure it didn't happen again. Nor let it happen to Dean.

He could hear the rapid beating of the host's heart, could see the shift in Castiel's eyes as he processed the command from a figure that now held more power and authority than he did.

"You need to finish your task, Sam." Castiel started, letting out a long suffering sigh as he cocked his as he stared at Sam once again. "You are needed elsewhere."

"I know where I'm needed." Sam hissed back, eyes blazing.

Castiel moved silently to the railing behind Sam, resting his arms on the rusted metal, eyes looking out towards the sun beginning to peak through the clouds. "The seals cannot be remade unless all seven of the arch angels have reunited." He breathed, sounding frustrated and exhausted all at once.

Sam frowned at him, pushing off the column and standing next to the angel. "I know that Cas. I was one of the seven that sealed him away the first time."

The shorter man turned towards him, blue eyes narrowed. "And yet you are set to do nothing, even when you know what God commands."

The young hunter's hand clamped tightly around the railing, fingers digging into the metal, eyes swimming in anger. "I am _not _bound by God's will, Cas. You _know_ that."

Castiel shook his head, eyes downcast. "No, you are not." He looked up then. "So you will abandon your duty, then? To stay with your brother?"

Sam closed his eyes, chin resting momentarily on his chest. "To protect him." Sam breathed, eyes staring out into the yard once again. "The others can mend and rebuild some of the seals. They don't need me for everything."

Castiel was quiet a moment. "Another angel cannot replace you, Sam." He glanced at the younger man. "Not since you resurfaced."

"I know." Sam answered quietly, feeling a breeze come in from the east, causing the tree branches at the edge of the property to sway. "I know how the hierarchy and chain of command works, Cas. Only when one of us is killed or destroyed, can another take his place."

Castiel nodded sombrely, eyes resting on the coming sunrise. "You are vulnerable, Sam. Lucifer will strike you hard and fast if he can find you."

Sam snorted. "I know. He already knows I'm weaker in this state, and he'll try and use that to his advantage." Sam shook his head miserably, the sound of birds chirping in the distance a mockery of the situation at hand. "But I can't change that Castiel." He turned to the angel, bringing himself up to his full height. "There is still work I have to do here, first. There are other avenues I have to look into." At the angel's obvious frustration, Sam continued. "I'll consider the alternative when I have no other options left."

Cas shook his head. "You are putting yourself and Dean at risk, Sam."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "He'd be at more risk with the alternative."

The shorter man sighed, rubbing his face with one hand in frustration. "Perhaps. But Lucifer will not stop until hell has risen from its ashes." The angel argued darkly, and Sam could see the worry lines etched in the man's forehead.

"I understand. And I know Lucifer far better than you do. I know what he's capable of." Sam ran a hand through his dark brown hair, feeling the strands tickle his face when it bounced back into place.

The angel sighed. "I must go." Castiel hesitated a moment, before pushing away from the banister. "Be cautious Sam." The angel warned as he turned to leave.

Sam nodded tersely. "I will. Take care of yourself."

There was a gust of wind, and then Sam was standing alone on the porch, thoughts swirling in his mind, as he watched the pinks and orange colours of the sky bring in the morning.

* * *

That's how Dean found him later on, thoughts racing after his discussion with Castiel. There was so much weight on both of their shoulders, and Sam took on the weight without question. Sam knew pressure, sure, but this was beyond anything he had experienced so far. Because everything had changed.

Having a family had changed it.

Dean had changed _him_.

Sam knew Lucifer would try and attack Dean, in order to try and break Sam. He knew that Sam's only human weakness was his brother, and everyone else knew it too. His Achilles' heel, complete with a bad mouth and a taste for classic rock.

Sam had to protect his brother at all costs, even at the cost of himself. He could be replaced – Dean could not.

Because Dean had to help with the final seal – the one that started it has to finish it, after all.

"Sam! Are you coming in or have you grown roots?" Dean yelled from inside the house, pulling Sam from his dark thoughts.

"Yeah, I'm coming."

Sam glanced once more at the coming storm outside, feeling it echo inside his own inner thoughts.

The war was here, and soon enough, there won't be anywhere to hide from the encroaching maelstrom.

Sam pulled the screen door open, allowing it to swing shut behind him just as the first clap of thunder roared overhead.

* * *

A/N: Well that be all folks for this story! I will continue on with this series and I am already working on the next story, so have no fear! And if you're confused on the who and what's of Sam and Castiel's conversation about Sam's 'alternative', I did that on purpose. It will be revealed in the next story. :p

A/N #2: I had a reviewer ask if the title of this story had any hidden meaning. In fact, it did. The title 'white shores' was a portion of lyrics taken from Annie Lennox's song, _Into the West _that I'm sure some are familiar with - it was one of the most famous songs from Lord of the Rings. I've posted the lyrics down below so you can maybe connect some of the dots of where I might have been inspired by this song.

Thanks again guys for all of your support. Hope to see you guys reviewing on the next segment of the series!

_Into the West _by Annie Lennox

Lay down  
Your sweet and weary head  
Night is falling  
You've come to journey's end  
Sleep now  
And dream of the ones who came before  
They are calling  
From across the distant shore

Why do you weep?  
What are these tears upon your face?  
Soon you will see  
All of your fears will pass away  
Safe in my arms  
You're only sleeping

_[Chorus]_  
What can you see  
On the horizon?  
Why do the white gulls call?  
Across the sea  
A pale moon rises  
The ships have come to carry you home

And all will turn  
To silver glass  
A light on the water  
All souls pass

Hope fades  
Into the world of night  
Through shadows falling  
Out of memory and time  
Don't say: «We have come now to the end»  
White shores are calling  
You and I will meet again

And you'll be here in my arms  
Just sleeping

_[Chorus]_

And all will turn  
To silver glass  
A light on the water  
Grey ships pass  
Into the West


End file.
